


There's No Excuse

by alephthirteen



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alpha Kara Danvers, Alpha Lena Luthor, Alpha Lois Lane, Alpha Maggie Sawyer, Alpha Sam Arias, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alphas Can Be Switches, Alternative Uses of Handcuffs, And Also For Sex, Beta Jess, Betas as Badasses, CADMUS Syndicate Used to Be Bad News, Dark SuperReignCorp, Deceiving Darkseid for Fun and Profit, F/F, Fur Trimmed Coats Likely, Heavy Gender Role Concepts, Human Biology Affected By ABO, Mafia Queen Lena, Omega Alex Danvers, Omega Clark Kent, Omega Leslie Willis, Omega Siobahn Smythe, Omegas Can Be Tops, The Author Should be Chased Down and Shot, The Title Doubles as a Confession, This is the ABO Femslash Equivalent of a Porn DVD With No Lead-ups, Villians Can't Get Enough, You Can't Just Disband a Crime Empire, she's doing her best, the author needs jesus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alephthirteen/pseuds/alephthirteen
Summary: Clark can do this.  He may be an omega but he's the best journalist for the job.  Luthors are trouble and not even Lois' most spine-melting alpha growl budged him.  He fell to his knees, whined and when he fought his way to his feet, promised her he would come back.Jess, Miss Luthor's personal assistant, is one ofthosebetas.  Alphas in all but name.  It's not her scent -- oranges and limes -- or anything dark or rough in her voice.  It's personality.  It's the way Jess' brown eyes rake his disguise's rumpled clothes, find the mating bite on his jaw and slide off, bored.  She might have to use a plastic cock but it seems Jess could make any omega she wanted scream her name.Clark reaches for the doorknob when a familiar voice catches his ears."Want me to let Clark in?" Kara snarls.  "Or do you want to keep taking this dick like a good girl?""Fuck me!" the Luthor whines.It's not like he kept in touch with Kara.  Didn't know she'd presented but he knows an alpha when he smells one.  The lobby reeks.  Only the acridness of the musk a blood relative, warning him of the risk of inbreeding keeps him from melting to his knees.SUPERgirl indeed.
Relationships: Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer, Samantha "Sam" Arias/Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 38
Kudos: 110





	1. Off The Record

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering where I got the inspiration for alpha Kara, you should blame Aspidities "Pornstar AU" _all the shapes were meant to fit you_ with new performer alpha Kara and superstar omega Lena. Then you should go read all of her sexy words and subscribe to her Patreon, IMHO.
> 
> I used that for virility and Red K Kara and Red Daughter Kara for temper. There's not enough alpha Lena stories sooooo...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clark Kent is a nice, chill country boy. He'd be meek in the sheets and a sympathetic, good-listening ear hero in the streets. Superman canonically is a listener, sympathetic, high empathy, protector type. Not a fighter like Batman or Diana. He mostly gets mad when people hurt kids like Billy Batson. He's no Max Lord or Morgan Edge. 
> 
> Lois canonically jokes about having dick-measuring contests with US Army generals in _Man of Steel_ in 2013. She breaks into their base and they can't touch a famous journalist so she wins. Lois Lane is the alpha with a swagger that brings all the whistleblowers to the yard.
> 
> Clark cooks. No boy of Martha's went off to college helpless and unable to do housework. He gives Lois backrubs whenever she wants and brings Ma Kent's blue-ribbon apple pies to work to sure the newsroom doesn't get too wound up. 
> 
> Lois has alpha female energy. Clark has omega male energy.

Clark can do this. He may be an omega but he's the best journalist for the job. Luthors are trouble and not even Lois' most spine-melting alpha growl budged him. He fell to his knees, whined and when he fought his way to his feet, promised her he would come back.

He stopped at Macy's for some scent-switch cologne. Pricey as hell but the _Planet_ will split it. Omega to Alpha blend, top brand. Practically doused in it. It's a stereotype, but lot of blue-blooded families ensure all their daughters are omegas. Easy money in marrying them off. The upscale OB/GYNs catering to the rich have stopped doing ultrasounds or are faking the results, fearing the female alphas and betas will be aborted.

Jess, Miss Luthor's personal assistant, is one of those betas. Alphas in all but name. It's not her scent -- oranges and limes -- or anything dark or rough in her voice. It's personality. It's the way Jess' brown eyes rake his disguise's rumpled clothes, find the mating bite on his jaw and slide off, bored. She might have to use a plastic cock but it seems Jess could make any omega, beta, or even alpha scream her name.

Clark reaches for the doorknob when a familiar voice catches his ears.

"Want me to let Clark in?" Kara snarls. "Or do you want to keep taking this hard dick like a good girl? Like a good _human_?"

"Fuck me!" the Luthor whines.

It's not like he kept in touch with Kara. Alex wouldn't want him to at this point. Burned that bridge. Didn't know she'd presented but he knows an alpha when he smells one. The lobby reeks. Only the acridness of the musk a blood relative, warning him of the risk of inbreeding keeps him from melting to his knees. 

_Supergirl indeed,_ he thinks. _I suppose Lena can't get into too much trouble with Kara in town..._

There are other omega scents in the air, one minty, one smoky, one like candied vodka. Other employees, perhaps. Luthor's is probably the smoky one. Seems right for a family that deals in bombs, bullets and destruction.

One more alpha scent too. Coppery. Sharp. Powerful enough to make Lois' bite mark itch like his omega wants it washed off by the teeth of a superior specimen.

"Problem?" Jess coos. "I'm sure Miss Luthor will take a coffee break soon."

She can hear Kara and Lena, no question.

"No, ah..." 

He shrugs.

"Wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to barge in there. I'll send written questions. To be answered at her convenience."

Jess nods.

"Very well."

She hands him a flash drive and a manila folder.

"Her schematics on the Venture project and her security teams notes on possible culprits."

"Ah, yes. Thank you."

"Gonna fill you up," Kara snarls. "Where do you want it?"

Lena's only reply is a continuous, wobbling keening that rises and falls.

That's his cue. He does not want the answer. He's out so fast Jess probably noticed he had powers. 


	2. Enhanced Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Darkseid's chief torturer finally has enough.

**Kara Zor-El**

Kara snaps her hips forward, pushing her throbbing cock through Lena's clenching, clinging walls. She's molten and dripping. So slick juices actually splash out with each stroke. So slick her own walls slide easily around Kara no matter how hard her tight little cunt clenches down. Her arms are pinned above her head and those unbelievable tits are mashed into the glass desktop.

That's why Kara isn't as big a fan of this position as Lena is. She can't worship Lena's breasts.

"He's gone," Kara pants, leaning forward and pressing her lips to the back of Lena's neck. "We don't have to put on a show. Want me to slow down?" 

"No," Lena gulps. "Slow is for _home,_ Kara."

Kara lets go. She ruts into Lena hard as she ever has, loving how _tough_ her mate is, how quickly she bounces back from the bruises. The only restraint is the quick snap backwards just before she bottoms out so that she _tickles_ Lena's cervix rather than ramming into it. Lena's stuttering pants below her are perfect.

"Six fucking days, Luthor. You've been edging me for _six fucking days._ "

Lena shivers.

"Wanted you to be full," Lena whines. "Bursting."

Kara puts a hand on Lena's hip and lifts her up, just enough to run her fingers through Lena's fluffy, soaked bush and find her clit. It strains and shivers, wanting to burst free and be a _cock_ and put a baby in Kara but it can't, not in this position and not with Lena's every nerve and reflex so busy being female. Kara swipes her forefinger over the weeping tip and smears the precum on the two tiny bumps just above Lena's cunt.

"Your balls are so tender," Kara groans.

"Are they full?"

Lena nods.

"Good."

She nips Lena's shoulder, just between her mark and Sam's.

"Because I want to try again. Both of us."

The thought of it makes Lena go over the edge, screaming and leaking her own come all over the desk. 

Kara pulls out fast before Lena's spasms grip too hard and make it painful.

Lena turns her sweaty face.

"Give him hell, darling."

She knocks twice on the secret door and Sam opens it. She's in her full Worldkiller regalia, heat vision at the ready and holding the boom-tube inhibitor. Kara pumps her angry, twitching cock in one hand and sneers down at him.

"Oh," Kara coos, drawing a fingernail across Desaad's cheek, leaving a thin cut.

"Poor baby..."

Darkseid's worst servant. A torturer who has broken New Gods, Kryptonian generals, Martian prophets, Guardians and others, turning them into a quivering, brainwashed lumps who betrayed planets to their doom.

He thrives on pain, giving or receiving. Lena guessed right. He can't stand being humiliated. Desaad expected pain. Knives. Burning. Sleep deprivation. Butchering loved ones in front of him. If he had any.

Not this. That cut is the first mark they've made on him. Sam has kept him fed. She's let him use the tiny bathroom nearby, chained hand and foot. Treated him like a prisoner, not a toy. She did all this as Reign, answering only to Lena or Kara as Reign, as if she was a fully leashed Worldkiller.

Six months with no mistreatment. It's clearly getting to him.

"Now," Kara chuckles. "All you have to do is tell me where the other pieces of the Anti-Life equation are. We already found Myriad, so I have despair. I have all the others. I just need condemnation..."

"Darkseid wi-"

Kara pumps her fist faster, blurring over her own skin. It's painful. She comes with a shout, landing the first ropes of her come on Desaad's cheeks and nose. She aims into his mouth when he opens it to scream and the next spurt is so intense she staggers back from the twitch of her hips. Desaad hisses in surprise from the impact.

"So much, love," Lena mumbles behind her. "Keep coming. Come hard for me."

Kara snarls, jerking and twitching.

Sam grabs Desaad's right eyelid and props it open. Kara aims and splashes the last half-dozen thick spurts there.

Lena puts her cell phone in Kara's hand.

"Tell me where the condemnation variable is, or I will upload this to Apokolips mainframe and turn off the inhibitor. You can explain to your master how you came home empty-handed, unable to capture one human woman and soaked in my jizz."

Desaad's whimper tells her everything.

"He's broken, love," Lena purrs, coming up behind Kara and resting her hands on her hips. Lena's hand is slick with her juices and the puddle of her come on the desk and it closes around Kara's aching shaft for a few more pumps. Lena cups her other hand to catch it.

"Mmm," Kara moans.

Lena's hand is heavenly.

"That's better."

"You always have more for _me,_ love. Such a waste to use it on _him_ when you could..."

Lena pats her belly.

"Put a little heir to House El in me while I put an heir to House In-Ze in you."

"Indonesia," Desaad pants. "Off the coast. Nth metal chest."

"Reign?"

Sam's heat vision flares, drilling into the top of Desaad's skull. Softening it. She plunges both hands through and spreads them, cracking the bone apart. Kara slips in the tiny nullification bomb she stole from the Green Lanterns, the one she wrapped in the root of a neutered hellspore.

"Quick," Lena reminds them. "While he still has vitals."

Sam flicks the inhibitor off and the boom tube from the palace takes Desaad back, no doubt straight to the medical halls. She drops the inhibitor and crushes it under her armored boot.

"Let me," Kara offers.

She reaches up with still-slimy fingers and unclips the mask from Sam's face.

"Hey," Sam mumbles.

She leans her forehead into Kara's.

"Hey, yourself. Sorry you had to be the big bad wolf."

"Kept Ruby safe," Sam moans.

Lena sighs.

"I want to go home and watch Netflix standup and cry and cuddle and just eat Kara-sized amounts of Cherry Garcia."

"Sounds good," Kara and Sam say in unison.

"Come on then, you sexy bottomless pits."

\-----

Orion comes by not long after midnight. He lands his sky cycle on Lena's balcony and jumps free, stalking over to Kara and swinging hard, catching her right in the jaw. The impact of his bones on hers blows out the glass of the balcony doors.

"That one's free," Kara mutters, working her jaw to make sure it's fine. "One step closer to my mates and you die screaming."

Orion doesn't release the fist. A quick peek with X-Ray suggests he knows how badly it will hurt if he does.

"Apokolips vanished from the scanners this morning. This was you, wasn't it?"

Kara shrugs.

"Trojan Horse attack. Sorry to steal your thunder. I sent you a backchannel warning to pull your spies out."

"We didn't believe you. We lost nine. How did you..."

Kara puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Then for that, I _am_ sorry. We wrapped a null bomb in a hellspore leaf. Bomb spread the atoms of the leaf out, they were attracted to the armory and then..."

Orion's eyes go wide.

"Every hellspore on the planet. At once," he realizes. "Devious tactic, Kryptonian."

Kara mimics an explosion with her fingers.

"My aunt taught me war. The Despair variable is on the table. Sealed and unused. I trust your masters know that I want the Life Equation tablet _and_ the Emotional Spectrum prism?"

"Yes," he grits out. "They should never have agreed to such treasures to a _lesser being."_

"They should have been able to win their own war, then. I'm not about to leave weapons in your possession that I have no counters for. Three Earth days, as agreed. Yes?"

A growl rises in his throat.

"Down boy," Kara jokes. "I don't make enemies of Justice Leaguers or their friends unless I have to. But New God or not, I will kick your balls hard enough to bounce you off the core of Alpha Centauri C if you touch me. That's the white dwarf, by the way. Toasty. I like my alphas both _softer_ and more _capable_ than you."

"I thought you..." he sputters.

He glances towards where the wind pulled Kara's bathrobe partway open. She shuts it and cinches the sash with superspeed.

"Oh, I am. Earth is so _wonderful_ that way. Female alphas here? Mmm!"

Kara turns away. Lena is in that bed and so is Sam and that's _important._

"Pleasure doing business," she calls over her shoulder.

She manages to hide her limp long enough to get around the corner.

Lena _really_ gives her a thrashing after they complete a devious scheme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Desaad is the Josef Mengele to Darkseid's Hitler. He's bad news.  
> \-----  
> The Anti-Life Equation is Darkseid's most potent weapon. Many times the heroes are simply fighting to keep him from getting all pieces because it's game over.  
> Myriad in the show likely is a reference to the "anti-will" portion of it. 
> 
> Kara and Lena hoarded all the fragments but didn't solve it so that they could trade it to Darkseid's enemies for the secrets of emotional Spectrum (e.g. Green, Yellow, Red Lanterns) and the solution to Life Equation, the equally powerful _good_ forces. Rather than risk them assembling the equation, New Genesis traded both so that they could obtain and prevent the Anti-Life Equation's use.
> 
> This Lena is TV-show-level Lex dangerous but she happens to _live_ on Earth so she's not going to blow it up.  
> \-----  
> Under Kryptonian law in this verse, any children a female alpha sires are in her father's line (Zor-El, House El) and any she carries are in her mother's (Alura In-Ze, House In-Ze)


	3. CatCo Magazine:  The Dad Bods Issue for Male Omegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where our resident expositional narrator, Nia Nal, interviews two prominent female alphas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANATOMY NOTE:
> 
> In this form of the omegaverse, humans have always had the A/B/O genders and Alphas and Omegas are cross-fertile. Three genders exist: Primary (physical parts), secondary (A/B/O scent and mental traits) and tertiary (uterine, breasts, hormonal differences). Roughly speaking, the primary gender is who you can knock up, secondary is who you want, and tertiary is how good you are at carrying and birthing.
> 
> Female-Alphas have external genitals similar to a human male (penis, testes) though in this case, this equipment is either fully or mostly retractable, albeit with some difficulty. They also have a vaginal canal, typically one far better suited to comfortable penetration by other alphas, suggesting a long history of alpha-alpha mating. Male-Alphas lack the vaginal canal. 
> 
> Betas of both genders are mono-fertile, possessing only male and only female genitals.
> 
> Female-Omegas have typically "feminine" equipment: vagina, uterus, ovaries. 
> 
> Male-Omega individuals have a similar apparatus to Female-Alphas only that Male-Omegas have a non-retractable penis and testes and a smaller, narrower vaginal canal, smaller womb and a cycle triggered only by vigorous intercourse with a steady partner to trigger the heat cycle by scent.
> 
> The reasons for this sort of 'intersex' approach will be clear later. See a copy of Kara Danver's 10th grade health class sex ed homework at the end of the chapter for a more basic breakdown of capabilities.

**_Fathering While Female: Make Him Do It_  
**

**Lois Lane and Cat Grant**

interviewed by Nia Nal **  
**(she/her, bisex-omega, Trevor Project outreach liaison for trans-omega youth)

NN: Ladies.

CG: Hello, Nia. I didn't know this was your work from home look. Don't you look _cuddly_.

NN: [the author volunteered for flu-season self-isolation. she was wearing sweatpants]

LL: Kitty. For shame. You don't let this stunning creature out?  
  
NN: Roll it back, Romeos. I'm a happily single omega. I have sage incense on the table and I'm not afraid to use it.  
  
LL: [sighed]

CG: [sighed, then actually said "Sigh"]  
  
NN: So this is a new experience for me. I'm not as used to profiling people who _initiate_ the interviews. Tell me what brought you two here. Tell me why two famously well, _catty_ frenemies are sitting here all chummy.

CG: You have this article on a five-second delay, right? There will be adult language.

LL: Kitty, every time you speak there's adult language. 

CG: Lois, your editor sends your columns to a priest, a rabbi and an imam to check you didn't sneak anything obscure in. Hell, the Navy wants you to help them teach sailors to swear.

LL: Sounds like a joke but they really do.

NN: Back to why I'm being ambushed by powerful women and two of my three role models in my apartment.

LL: Who's the third?

NN: Danica Roem.

LL: Ah, the trans legislator in Virginia?

NN: Yeah.

CG: Nia, you tell me when your presidential inauguration is and I'll be there. Even pay for my own booze.

CG: As for the article. There was a party a few weeks ago. Took my son with me, against my better judgment. Light of my life. The first real thing I've done. CatCo's an idea. My little boy... [sighs] He's my real legacy. What sparked this chat was a local businessman who shall remain nameless slithered up to me and asked me if I had any more sons in me.

NN: Oh my god. I've worked for you long enough to know this ended spectacularly.

CG: Not in the moment, no. I went with my son to the dessert table and we stuffed our faces and I taught him to people-watch.

LL: She also called me, after, to complain. Loudly. Drunkenly.

CG: I always complain when I'm talking to you. Can't stand you sober. So that means nothing, Lois.

NN: This is like a live-action Tom and Jerry, from where I'm sitting. If I owned a mallet it would be smacked down on someone's head.

LL: Please. I'm much more the roadrunner. But I'm not usually like this, I swear.

CG: Yes, you are.

LL: Fine. Yes, I am.

CG: Full disclosure. My ex-husband is a male omega. Wonderful person. Terrible father. I think, as Lois and I talked, I realized why he-who-shall-not be named assumed I carried Carter.

NN: Because you're a woman.

CG: Yes. Exactly.

LL: Which is ridiculous. 

I was in the Metropolis Met the other day and I saw _Venus and the Satyr_ by Titian. Now, I'm not sure what Titian's deal was besides a size kink and a fondness for reach-arounds but that's a five-hundred-year-old painting and it in no uncertain terms shows that not only Renaissance Europe but Ancient Rome knew that alphas or omegas of either primary gender were fertile. Celebrated it. Applied it to their understanding of gods, this human image. Sure, we have fewer images of Venus with top shelf tits and hung like a stallion but it goes back. It's impossible to think that humans didn't notice this at the dawn of time. 

CG: Also, I don't think that poor goat-boy could walk for a week. [chuckles].

NN: Doubt he could. I actually wrote a paper on that one in college. About the aggressiveness, the sort of mid-rut, breeding frenzy expression Venus was depicted with. Mounting from behind, teeth on the top knob of the spine, knotting. The whole thing is very _virile_ except she's also depicted as very slender and maidenlike and demure besides that.

LL: Nia, you and I totally need to get wine drink someday and talk art.

CG: I wouldn't even consider it infidelity.

| 

LL: Let's go back to asshole businessmen. The only hard-and-fast differences between our three sexes are the primary genders of _betas_ \-- one flavor only -- and the _tertiary_ genders of alphas and omegas in and that that female omegas and alphas both have breasts but male alphas and omegas don't. We're functionally identical, even if our instincts lead to different behaviors. Scent strength and composition _barely_ vary between male alphas and female alphas. Same for omegas.

So really, that's it. 

LL: My husband and I didn't even talk about it twice. Clark wants to be the carrier and it's not like it's hard to find the sweet spot. [laughs] Male-Omega pregnancies have a slightly higher risk of prematurity, sure. Not as _much_ space in there and the feedback loop from lactation to pregnancy never takes off. Still. He's looking forward to carrying, he'll bounce back quicker with the testosterone rebound and the muscle he can gain with workouts. 

Side note: Ladies, always make your man work out in a _home_ gym. RAWR!

He's eager to carry, I'm looking forward to bonding with the little monster breastfeeding it. Win-Win.

LL: So I don't really know what the hangup is.

CG: This pushback feels new, somehow. Don't recall it when I was a girl.

LL: I agree. I mean, the feminist movement tamped down pretty hard on the female-alphas fertility-only myth. I'd blame Hugh Hefner and his _Omegas of the Month_ series but I think it's not just that.

NN: Maybe it's visuals.

CG: Maybe? We know infants need breasts, ergo people with big breasts have all the babies. And omegas usually have juicier tits, at least as we Americans see it.

LL: Right. It's cultural. I was doing a story in Pakistan and there's a famous alpha politician there. Fierce as f*** and so good at protesting the dictator that he can't kill her. People would know by the next morning because her illegal speeches are daily and carried by dozens of mosques. One of her nicknames is...cleavage related.

NN: We aren't going to answer this right now.

LL: Unlikely.

CG: One parting note. Morgan Edge? If you _ever_ speak to me in that way again, I will sue you and once I've cleaned you out I'll knock up your trophy wife, both of your kids at Princeton, and your mom while I'm at it.

LL: I wondered how long it would take.

NN: This is why I like working for her, Lois. Cat puts the brutal in brutal honesty.

NN: Ladies and Gents, Cat Grant! Find her on twitter at @CatsClaws, Facebook with @MediaQueen, and Tumbler at OneClassyKitty.

CG: Nia, how did you dig that Tumblr up?

NN: Learned from the best.

LL: Your own darn fault, Kitty.

NN: Let's wrap there before you two knotheads whip it out and measure.  
  
---|---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
>  **Everything Smells!: Real-World Sex Ed for Alpha, Beta and Omega Teens Aged  
>  15+  
> **   
>  _
> 
> **DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION, QUIZ #32**
> 
> **US CENSUS DATA SECTION 8, Line 2A** \-- Physical  
> Characteristics 
> 
> Student: Kara Danvers
> 
> Date: 09/12/2010  
> Score: 100%  
> Self Identify gender (required): Female-Alpha  
> Self Identify sexual orientation (optional) DO NOT MARK HERE, see a counselor  
> {Circle and underline}which statements are true. **  
> **
> 
> ****
> 
> ******Male Alpha:**  
>    
>  Penis: {Y} N  
>  Testes: {Y} N  
>  Male Organs retract: Y {N} N/A  
>  Vagina: Y {N}  
>  Can Sire: {Y} N  
>  Can Carry: Y  {N} |  **Male Beta:**  
>    
>  Penis: {Y} N  
>  Testes: {Y} N  
>  Male Organs retract: Y {N} N/A  
>  Vagina: Y {N}  
>  Can Sire: {Y} N  
>  Can Carry: Y {N}  |  **Male Omega:  
>    
>  **Penis: {Y} N  
>  Testes: {Y} N  
>  Male Organs retract: Y {N} N/A  
>  Vagina: {Y} N  
>  Can Sire: {Y} N  
>  Can Carry:  {Y} N ****  
> ---|---|---  
> **Female Alpha:**  
>    
>  Penis: {Y} N  
>  Testes: {Y} N  
>  Male Organs retract: {Y} N N/A  
>  Vagina: {Y} N  
>  Can Sire: {Y} N  
>  Can Carry: {Y} N **** |  **Female Beta:**  
>    
>  Penis: Y {N}  
>  Testes: Y {N}  
>  Male Organs retract: Y N {N/A}  
>  Vagina: {Y} N  
>  Can Sire: Y {N}  
>  Can Carry: {Y} N **** |  **Female Omega:**  
>    
>  Penis: Y {N}  
>  Testes: Y {N}  
>  Male Organs retract: Y N {N/A}  
>  Vagina: {Y} N  
>  Can Sire: Y {N}  
>  Can Carry: {Y} N


	4. Finish the Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Lena and Sam have a talk, Ruby has always been a fighter, and Kara doesn't want candy on the omelet.

**Lena Luthor**

Kara is tapping her, over and over, next to her navel. Quick taps of her finger. For no apparent reason. The emptied cartons of Kara's usual four pints of ice cream, Sam's six and Lena's one are neatly stacked on the coffee table. Ruby is with her mother upstairs. Voices filter down.

Algebra. It's a point of pride for Sam that she teach her daughter math. Accountant thing, probably.

Lena gets all the "squishy, smashy, sparky sciences" like biology, physics and engineering and Kara gets the "we're sciences, just kidding!" liberal arts stuff.

That was the deal Ruby made with her mothers.

"Darling," Lena grumbles. "Why are you poking me?"

"Bunny," Kara mumbles.

_Lord, is she asleep right now?_

"Soft. Soft bunny," Kara murmurs.

Lena leans back, tangling her fingers in golden curls. She takes off her glasses and sets them aside.

The deed is done. One enemy gone. New Genesis is now not quite an enemy and not quite a friend. Kara secured the tools to keep them safe. Forever.

The mate-bites on her collarbone are now joined by multicolored scars, on her back. One on each shoulder blade. Runes, humming under her skin. Life and emotion, in their purest, most hardened forms. Like chemical elements. Iron is not copper and nickel mixed. Iron simply _is_ and so are these ideas.

Her mind is hazy from the inscribing of the marks. She did Kara's. Kara did hers. Sam did Ruby's. Ruby did Sam's. They took turns holding Sam as the Worldkiller surgeries, gene treatments, parasites and all that wickedness treated the purity of the LIfe Equation like a sliver in the flesh until it was overridden.

The person who carved the flesh of their loved ones needed to be madly beloved. It had to hurt inscribed and inscribed. Sacrifices can't be easy. No one but Ruby could have done that. 

No human or Kryptonian has seen these symbols and truths let alone _worn them_ in tattoos of Nth metal powder.

Perhaps tomorrow, Lena will go be mad.

Cuddling Kara will do for tonight.

\-----

"Lee."

"M'not sleeping," Lena lies.

"Lee," Sam teases. "Eyes open, hot stuff."

 _Oh, no_.

Kara is still asleep, or mostly so. Her cheek is pressed up against Lena's stomach and her hand is loose and nerveless but it's also resting on Lena's morning wood. The scent of Lena so near and so needy has Kara's nostrils flaring but she does not wake. 

Lena's cock twitches and leaks and her balls draw up, tucking close and exposing her swollen, overheated cunt. Her body wants Kara to _pick_ already so she can get on with ramming Kara or being rammed.

"You could wake her," Sam reminds her. "That little slut _loves_ morning sex."

"Sam!"

_What am I going to say? I tell her only I get to dirty talk to Kara?_

"She's sleeping," Lena hisses.

"Don't put candy in the omelet," Kara whines.

Sam covers her mouth so the laugh isn't too loud.

"Where does she get these dreams? She says the cutest fucking things..."

"She does," Lena agrees, letting her fingers rub a few strands of spun gold together.

"How's Ruby?"

Sam shrugs.

"Still acting weird. Grumpy. Specifically to me. You don't suppose?"

"She's thirteen, Sam. The majority of both betas and omegas get their periods or their heats by then."

Sam groans.

"Surely you're not disappointed in her if she presents alpha?" Lena prods.

"Never. I could never love Ruby any less," Sam sighs. "Hell, I can give her better advice. We can. Seeing as how that's the headspace for all of her moms."

"You're worried she's thirteen. And thirteen-year-old alphas are _trouble_ as we well know. Females especially."

"Especially..." Sam agrees. "One moment we're worried we're going to go cock-crazy like an omega or get that hair-trigger temper betas have when they're filling out. Then, hell. Then we're _magic_ suddenly. We're that lucky sixteen percent. The alpha boys close in but they can smell we're ready to fight back now. Muscle packing on fast as we can eat, hard two-thirds of the day, swamping anyone we walk past."

"I remember," Lena chortles. "I took care of my own first...whew...nine days? After that, I realized the cute omega with the bad attitude sort of wobbled when I walked by. After that Veronica Sinclair was pleading to take care of my cock."

Sam chuckles.

"Lucky rich girl."

"I took Ruby's dad behind a _Dairy Queen,_ Lee. I was younger than she is now. He was sixteen. He was on the baseball team and he had a car...all those warning signs. Male omegas were never on pills back then. He went into heat and my cock was out, hard and in him to the hilt before either of us finished one thought. At the time we were both onboard but I'm sure I was too rough with him. His body probably popped an egg out to protect himself so I wouldn't try to fill him again."

"We lasted a week after that and he had a rough pregnancy, real rough. Even for a male omega. Bill's family was very clear she was my problem. In retrospect, knowing what I am, I'm not so sure his dad _missed_ me with the shotgun. My shirt was already torn from him beating me when I told him to fuck off over my shoulder. He fired."

Lena reaches for Sam's big, rough hands. She roofed in high school and college at an age when working out still affects Krytponian's growing bodies. Lena gets to enjoy the cords of muscle, the faint callouses, and the endurance to this very day. 

"I'm so sorry, Sammy. Not exactly a sweet first love."

"I'm not," Sam sighs. "I mean, what I did was wrong. Yes. Understand that. We both consented but...still. I basically _ripped_ a child out of that boy and the only reason I don't hate myself is the child..."

"Is Ruby," Lena reminds her. "Ruby. Perfect, smart, bossy, eats cereal by the box _Ruby._ Ours."

Lena snorts.

"Dairy Queen? Really?"

Sam nods.

"Why do you think I've never told her where I first kissed her father, let alone where she was conceived?"

Lena does some quick math in her head.

"June 17th is her birthday, right?"

Sam nods.

"Sam, why do you take Ruby for Dairy Queen in November? November 11th. Don't bullshit me and say it's Armistice Day. We always have to drive way the hell into the desert where the one 24-7-365 one is still open."

Sam grins.

"No reason."

"Sam."

"Ruby barely lived. Bill's body gave up after just over seven months. She was so tiny, Lena. So tiny. Seeing as how we only had sex once, It was easy to pinpoint. Just 218 days. Therefore, November 11th."

"Oh my god," Lena mumbles. "That short? That's..."

"Exactly, Lee."

"Half of preemies in hospitals with teams of doctors don't make it. Bill's parents were bible-beaters. They didn't care. Getting my devil-spawn out was just a to-do for them."

"They didn't want me at the birth. The Randalls were some bitter sisterfuckers, that's for sure. Problem was they had money. Bill's grandfather was a honest-to-god hillbilly. Bill's dad had a chain of car dealerships. Too busy donating to Operation Rescue and yelling threats at omega teens going to Planned Parenthood to have me involved in my child's birth. This great lady from the Alpha Wives' Lodge got me a lawyer, put the hurt on them in court. Ended up having to get a cop to let me in but they couldn't keep me away. Mom held that hospital bill against me until my 18th birthday and then threw us out."

"Me being there saved her life, Lena. No exaggeration."

"What happened, Sammy?"

"Rubes took a few big breaths and started to sort of curl in and shut down. Little tiny breaths. Bill's parents were basically trying to pack him up and take him home. His dad actually said I could 'bury her in the back yard' for all he cared. The doctor was scrambling to find an oxygen mask small enough. Pretty clear he didn't have one on hand. Maybe not one in the hospital. The writing was on the wall. Nurse looked like she was going to puke."

"So I begged the doctor to hold her, so at least the parent who spent seven months waiting to meet her could hold her a-a-a-"

Sam sobs.

"I thought she was _dying_. If I wasn't gushing milk at that point, she probably wouldn't have smelled it. She smelled a parent. One with milk for her. Rubes just kind of rebooted. Huge gulp of air. Wailed so loud I should've known she was half-alien. I put my nipple in her mouth and she tried to pull it off, she sucked so hard. The first safe, normal breathing rhythm she ever had was nursing. Was when I held her right here," Sam says, tapping her chest.

"Named her Ruby because my first thought when I looked at her was how _red_ she was from crying."

"Ruby was easy right up to her terrible twos. Grew like a weed, slept for hours if it was on my skin. I could barely keep my weight up for two months after she was born. The lactation nurse was this amazing Mexican lady. She wasn't used to female alphas with no prenatal classes _getting it._ Joked that she wanted to kidnap me," she chuckles.

Sam wipes some tears off her cheek. Lena beckons for her hand and sucks the salty liquid from Sam's skin.

"Ruby made it."

"Yeah," Sam sniffs. "God, I'm such a mess, Lee."

"Go finish the ice cream, Sammy. I'm going to..."

Lena looks at a still sleeping Kara who has for some insane reason decided to _nuzzle_ her cheek up against the tent in Lena's sweatpants. She's breathing deep too, filling her lungs with Lena's pheromones.

"Minty..." Kara mumbles. "Mmm. peppermint cornflakes."

Sam snort-laughs.

"Her dreams always have food. I can't believe her brain just stapled your scent onto whatever she's dreaming about eating."

_She never liked the plan for Desaad._

Lena rests both her palms on Kara's snoring, drooling head.

"Mmm. Too comfy," she sighs. 

Comfy isn't the word for it. It fucking hurts to have Kara _right_ there. To have her wet breath permeating the sweatpants and dampening Lena's shaft. It's also so adorable having Kara snoozing, saying stupid dream-talk and so boneless and lose and not on-guard in her arms.

"I'm going to ask you to call Jess and Eve at CatCo. We're taking a day off. All of us."


	5. Hell of a Day - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where what can go wrong will go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kara is a reporter for the Tribune and CatCo, writing the Fashion, Lifestyle and Society columns. She first met Lena when she was sent by Cat Grant for a magazine article titled 'Sleek as a Shark' about notably well-dressed female alphas.
> 
> She is not yet Supergirl. Clark thought of that nickname when he realized she was in Lena's office only because once upon a time, it was his nickname for teenage Kara. They had a closer relationship than on the show but after Jeremiah's death, Alex wanted more of Kara and Clark backed off, letting the sister who needed her to function through her grief take precedence.
> 
> They have since drifted apart.
> 
> Only friends know about her, Sam and Lena's relationship.

**Lena Luthor**

Lena wakes after a quick nap. She can't see a clock from here but the light coming in the low, slit-like windows of the penthouse is still minimal. So it's either late sunset or still early morning. Kara is still right where she was.

It wasn't until she met Kara she missed having a stereotypical, mostly-glass, _'look out at the city I rule and despair'_ alpha bachelorette penthouse. 

Luthor caution and the fact that bomb-proof glass works best in small panes. If it meant that a former version of Lena could fuck one of her rotating playmates against plaster while pinning the omega's face to the strip of glass and telling her to _'look all you like because they can't see you'_ and feel a greedy clench of surprise around her fingers or her cock? Side effect.

Three days of Kara having moved in and this place looks and feels like a home that generations had been raised in. Squashy, knit-covered pillows bloomed like peach and violet moss on any upholstered surface. Waist-high bookcases, too. Two of them family heirlooms the rest grad-student shabby from Alex's hand-me-down apartment.

Easels manifested -- four of them -- on a balcony where the sunlight was best. Kara apparently thinks Lena will one day use hers.

An unused but artfully arranged kitchen became a beehive of activity. Sounds, sights, smells. Angelic if wordless singing and humming and bouncing blonde waves and tapping feet and the sizzling of food that makes Lena's mouth water.

How could someone _not_ love a woman who turns a desperate plea to move in with her to Kara not just moving her wardrobe but making Lena at home in her own home, her own mind, her own skin in ways Lena never knew existed?

Lena must have stayed hard their entire nap because her head is starting to hurt. Kara's appeal overrode her common sense and her brain isn't letting her heart relax because she can't breed a female _soft_ and her all-too-human body is straining to keep blood rushing.

_Fuck it._

She can't exactly shake Kara awake even if she had kept up her gym membership enough to lift such a muscled, heavy woman in the first place. Kryptonians somehow anchor themselves into reality like a climbing spike in rock. A fixed point around which the universe around them moves.

"Kara," Lena whispers.

"Mmm," Kara groans.

"Lena?"

Blue eyes open and Kara tilts up to look at Lena. Kara's eyes are so brightly colored and they're just a hair _bigger_ than it seems they should be. Sam's even more so. Clearly the eyes of a race of hunters. Uncanny bells ring in Lena's mind. Far below cognition and human thought. Base instinct about big eyes arousing desires to protect, coddle and love smashing into hardwired warnings about faces that are almost but not quite.

Enough for a long stare to root Lena to the spot until Kara has time to rip the clothing off her prey.

Now, what had been nervousness and curiosity ringing in her head is a stillness. Like meditation provides. Kara's gaze makes her stop, focus in, listen and the sweet, sweet woman behind it never fails to say something that makes waiting for her to speak worth it. 

Once upon a time, Lena was bored and this little reporter who was interviewing her for a fashion rag about her 'iconic' looks for alpha businesswomen was still a friend. Friends take selfies. 

Lena downloaded one to her email checked the color balance in a photo on her computer late one night.

She doesn't know why exactly, she just did. She _was_ drunk and insanely horny but porn would have been a quicker route to ruining her slacks.

The color checker program spit out an exact match for "Electric blue" when pointed at Kara's irises.

Bright enough to feel hot, enough to draw attention on a lovely, tanned face crowned with _distracting_ bronze locks.

She started looking for things that matched. LIghtning bolt into dry grass blue. Siamese cat blue. Siberian Husky blue. The rings warning swimmers that the cute little octopus has a deadly power when it touches the skin.

Lena was looking at a hardware store website and jerking off, it was that bad. Half-heartedly pumping her shaft while scrolling her laptop with the other hand. Trying to order enough paint to cover the penthouse in Kara's eye color. She'd dripped enough slick from the tip that it was effortless. So much so that when her phone rang and she grabbed it with her 'phone hand' without thinking it squirted out of her greasy grip and bounced onto the carpet. Showing that _Kara_ had texted her a good night and an oversized heart emoji. Flashing Kara's picture up on the contact app and the sight of the eyes, _those eyes_ she'd been lost in for four hours made Lena come so suddenly she ruined every piece of clothing she wore except her shoes and the jacket. The jacket was fifteen feet away, draped over her office couch.

Their next lunch date was awkward. The evening after that lunch date was their first time. Kara had smelled Lena's come on her phone, probably and she kicked into a rut. She knocked on the door only to find Lena just as ruined, hair tangled and messy, and a stained pair of jeans and a sports bra making her _more_ pathetic than she would have been naked. 

That was how Lena realized that Kara wants her in whatever the fuck she's wearing. She buys sports bras and men's briefs now and it saves her an embarrassing amount compared to the La Perla and Fredericks she used to favor. She's lost more than a few of hundred dollar luxury panties to nothing but a lick of Kara's lips and a glance over breakfast. The promise of wicked things for Lena to enjoy and the courage, resolve, and yes, superpowers that mean Kara can deliver. All it takes to ruin her workday.

It soon felt far too wasteful, far too obnoxious one-percenter of her to wear that kind of thing.

"You're getting stuck thinking about my eyes," Kara teases.

"I always will be."

"Rao," Kara moans. Romantic talk makes this woman moan. Unfair.

"Someday, you're going to be staring into my eyes over an altar, Lee."

"That a threat?" Lena jokes.

"Promise."

"Want to kiss you," Kara yawns. "Face too far. Lap comfy. Hand, please?"

Lena lets Kara take her hand and press a long, sloppy-wet kiss to her palm.

"What happens to Sam, in your daydream about you and me?"

"She's there. Raoist altars are five-sided, lee. Like the House sigils. The flat side faces the sun. The other four..."

Lena feels fingertips press into her thigh, outlining the scene. Kara drags a rough outline of the Sigil of El. 

Kara uses that symbol to sign papers for her anonymized contracts with L-Corp. 

Kara paints it in cherry syrup on Lena's belly when Lena forgets to _stop her_ when they're eating breakfast in bed.

Kara has painted it in every piece of her art, a hidden signature in a pond or a shadow or embodied on a coat.

Kara prefers to retell human paintings with her own jokes in them. A leopard in the background of _The Last Supper,_ taking meat off a tray in the next room. Titian, Boticelli, Vermeer and That are Kara's favorites. Not so odd, when Lena thinks about how each has a famously suggestive painting of a woman that is iconic in art history. Or five such paintings. Or ten. 

In college, before they met, Kara painted _Venus with a mirror_ but with a pair of subtle tweaks. A meatier, curvier, ideal-body-fat figure for Venus rather than Titians smaller, slimmer one. That and a hand mirror set in solid gold in Venus' hand, not the cherub's and the handle of the mirror is longer, fatter, and has a curious cap on one end. Clearly dual-purpose and useful for the goddess' lonely nights. Titian and Carracci are Kara's favorites, so much so that Kara can plop down on the office's couch, sketch out Lena in business clothes, and a week later, emerge triumphant from her studio with a painting of a dark-haired, green-eyed queen who as Lena suspected was nude, the purple silk on her shoulders hiding nothing. She stood beside a marble rimmed basin in a dimly lit palace, a bag overflowing with gold coins in one hand and a stylus in the other, digging the greek symbol for Aphrodite into the still-wet clay pot.

Seemed only fair that Kara got to ravish Lena on the still-sticky dropcloth she painted it over.

Lena in classical settings rapidly became a theme. Lena transplanted into the world of crimson silks and sinfully dark, liquid lighting of Titians less Chruch-friendly work. Here, in the role of Diana, sending hounds after a hunter who interrupted her. Here, as Venus, alert and alive while Mars snoozed behind her, vulnerable. Undone by her sexual power. The settings ranged from modern to antiquity. One favorite was based on a sketch by Carracci of a woman being fingered in a cave. Kara turned the cave into the shiny dried-blood of Krypton's volcanic surface and outside the cave's mouth was Argo City's distinctive outline. That time, the queen being ravished was blonde and the erotic heat of the pose was brighter than a man could get away with back in 17th century Italy. A blonde maiden with a scepter in blue and silver robes, trembling and the one she clung to while speared to the knuckle was Lena. Lena in green, white and black so either Zod or Vex regalia, she's not sure which. The iconic whose troublemaking ways meant they dotted Krypton's history with secret marriages to their rivals. To the Els.

Kara titled that _Naka and Shayi_ and the data crystal of Alura's AI they set up in the home office simply blushed and outright refused to explain the reference to Lena.

After a while, the sigil became code between them. Kara has been so patient with her. Mating and biting and even saying the oaths but not claiming her in public. No way to be closeted, not in a world where arousal leaks off the skin in waves and it takes a crowd of strangers seconds to see whose wave or eye contact triggered it.

Kara will trace her sigil on a napkin, in ketchup at a snuck-away lunch or pass by 'reporting' on a society function and tickle it into Lena's back if the dress exposes it. When she realized Kara loved stealth touches in public, she retired all but her backless dresses.

The message is simple: _'say one word and I will fuck you, suck you, eat you out, let you take me, worship you, right here and right now'_ and they've no doubt left messes that traumatized custodians cleaning the ladies at every gallery, museum, concert hall, ballroom and event hall in California. Lena started signaling _what_ she wanted by messing the symbol, breaking an outline here or there.

Until the day she steps up to the cameras and comes out to the world, not just her friends and says 'these women are mine', Kara propositions her at work with napkins and fucks her in her office after covering the camera or in her coat closet with Armani and Versace shoved out of the way or she tickles her and glances at a door and Lena finds herself smashed flat into the side of a bathroom stall with her skirt bunched up and Kara snarling how she plans to use Lena and telling Lena what she likes best about the dress, sometimes at the same time.

"You went away, Lena. You all right?"

"Memories, Kara. I'm fine. What about the altars, love?"

"Sol, at sunset," Kara says, tapping the side that's blunt and longer than the others. "All ceremonies begin when the sun touches the altar at sunset for a kneeling viewer."

"Me."

Tap on the shorter face on the left side.

"You."

"Sam, standing beside you because _you_ brought her into my life."

She drags her finger across the shape, cutting a line to the side near the one where Kara would stand.

Lena can _see it_ now, a sketch in her mind. Perhaps the hills near Midvale? Where they could be ringed in by redwoods?

"Ruby, by me. Because Sam gives her to me, as a gift of family."

Lena's chin trembles.

"Real kiss, now. _Please._ "

Kara straightens out and climbs into her lap. Lena hisses when Kara's t-shirt rides up and a bare thigh collies with her still-aching cock.

"Lee," Kara gasps. "So hard. Doesn't it hurt?"

"Kiss me," Lena growls.

Kara fists Lena's hair in her hand and pulls back. Heat vision decorates the ring of her eyes, just a flash. A reminder. Seems Lena will be roleplaying the trembling, boneless omega this morning.

Lena's lips are Kara's to take and she _does_ and every time it's too damn much. Kara's a messy kisser. Either a momentary peck before work that makes Lena shiver or a gradual, sloppy, melting disaster that leaves Lena's makeup on Kara's face than her own. No in-between. Pillowy lips all over. Kara's tongue sliding across Lena's lips and taking advantage of the gasp to plunge inside. Licking into her mouth, teasing Lena's tongue, and letting her chase into the liquid heat of Kara's mouth before trapping it with a sucking that makes Lena melt.

This morning it's a bit sour, mostly from her. Lena's not sure if such imperfections as bad breath happen to Kara. Kara usually tastes like sugar and candy or else whatever slow-cooked, spicy, meaty abomination she last ate. 

Lena's panting now and Kara is _still going_ and it's like she's forgotten humans need to breathe or Kara's alpha has decided Lena is just like her and such a worthy mate she must have superpowers. 

She takes Kara's earlobe and pinches hard and Kara releases her with a gasp and a swipe of the tongue on her upper lip.

"Lee?" Kara croaks. "What the hell?"

"Couldn't breathe. Only _you_ could be such a good kisser I need a safe word."

Kara grins, sloppy and goofy and now it's that shy, lanky mouse of a reporter who wandered in one Tuesday to ask Lena about her vests. 

"Use that," Kara grunts. "I'll notice."

She leans back in and grinds her hips slowly and powerfully against Lena, reminding her of how much power she has in them. The reporter is gone. It's the crazed warrior goddess again, biting Lena's lip and spreading Lena's arms on the couch, tangling their fingers together and pinning her.

"So pretty for me," Kara whispers. "So pretty _trapped_ and whining."

"Kara," Lena hisses. "Fuck me or let me up."

So long so hard means this is going to be the mother of all headaches if Lena doesn't get either an orgasm or a chance to cool off.

Kara glances back down to Lena's still clothed hard-on and smiles. She slides her hand between them, dragging her knuckles on the bulge in Lena's sweatpants and down, down, down past the tip of Kara's own cock which is straining in its fat hood, the spurts of milky liquid the only clue it's not just a madly engorged clit. Kara's abs are bunched tight to keep it in because Kara wants to be just a woman for a moment. To be the maiden Lena ruins. 

Lena would already be sliding out into Kara's hand if she was that hard and not getting any attention. Leaking steadily and wanting to break out into open air and spear Lena. Kara's balls are pulled in fully, forming two knobs on either side of her slick bronze bush. Hard enough to make Lena gasp when a shift makes the hidden fruits drag against Lena's leg.

Kara reaches into her own cunt and Kara moans as she swipes her fingers, soon coming back with a palmful of her slick. Enough to pool. She ribs it in, coating Lena's shaft and her hands.

"Mine too," Lena pants. "Use mine too."

Kara licks against Lena's neck, tasting her pulse. Her fingertips lift and pluck Lena's balls until they're out of the way and Lena melts when Kara finds her folds.

"So wet, Lee. Have to have you. After I've helped out."

Strings of slick hang between Kara's fingers when she brings it up.

"One hand or two?" Kara asks

"Two. Fast. I need to finish, Kar."

Kara smiles.

"If you experience erections lasting longer than four hours, get a different girlfriend."

"Never," Lena rumbles. "Not on your life."

"Gonna take you out, okay stud?"

Lena nods, gritting her teeth.

Her own body doesn't seem real right now. Kara's big, soft palms tenderly pull her sweatpants back and Lena's shaft welcomes the cool air and the head flows, not even leaking anymore. Just pumping precome out over Kara's grip.

"So pretty, Lee," Kara purrs, palming her. "So big. All for me?"

_It's not, really. Not like you or Sam._

Lena's not tiny. In fact she impressed her omega girlfriends but she's actually had two betas walk away. She never wanted to be with an alpha, after that. She never felt more _powerful than_ when Kara's eyebrows ticked up when she pulled Lena's pants down. Kara joked about how she needed to swallow her gum to make room in her mouth and that _really_ needs to go in the wedding vows or at the least on her tombstone. 

Kara seems to be reading her mind, seeing the self-consciousness from their first few nights. She drives the heel of one hand into the top of Lena's sack and with the fingertips, establishing a starting point for her measuring and tiptoes her way up until she can't reach any farther and her fingers stop just behind the head.

"Big," Kara sighs. "Big enough to feel it spread me wherever you put it. Doesn't have to be the biggest on the planet, Lee. Only has to be what _I_ need. What you need to fill my throat, my pussy..."

She leans in close to Lena's ear, licking the shell.

"For you to make my ass sore. I like how it's pale, like you, except for the head."

Kara fists tight and drags up from the base while three fingers on her other hand dance around the flared ridge, gliding effortlessly with so much _wet_ to help.

"Come for me, pretty girl. Come for me so I can taste you on my fingers."

Lena's a goner. She grunts and she's fountaining into Kara's hands, over Kara's shirt, her wrists. Kara leans forward and Lena's cock is trapped between their bodies. Sharing the mess.

"Give me all of it, pretty girl. Every drop."

Kara kisses her cheek and keeps pumping and Lena keeps _answering_ with small pulses and she can't imagine how because she came in Kara over and over last night as if her alpha-frazzled brain thought it would make her _more_ pregnant if her knot took nearly two hours to go down. 

"That's good," Kara purrs.

It really is. The coiled pain behind Lena's eyelids have faded and the rush has loosened the knots and the pain.

"Feel better?"

"Mmm," Lena hums. "So much."

Kara settles beside her to take her weight off of Lena and keeps one loose, lazy hand on Lena's base. Spreading her fingers as Lena softens. Helping her climb down the cliff Kara just carried her up. Lena sinks into the afterglow and closes her eyes.

"God,' Kara laughs. "No wonder there are jokes about the Irish. I think you could've put a dozen more in me with that and I emptied you last night."

Lena chuckles.

"Not how it works, Kara."

"Oh?"

Lena turns her head and opens her eyes.

"It is for us. Better we get fucked, likelier we are to double up. To drop an extra egg or two."

"You put fucking _litter_ in me, Lena. I just know it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Works referenced as ones Kara has spoofed.
> 
> [Venus with a MIrror, Titian](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/64/Titian_-_Venus_with_a_Mirror_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg/1280px-Titian_-_Venus_with_a_Mirror_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg)  
> [Aenas and Dido, Carracci](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ce/fe/53/cefe53f8b2d63b5f47ca8e2dc41d66dd.jpg)


	6. Hell of a Day - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where what can go wrong will go wrong.

**Kara Danvers**

_A man in black armor._

_A woman, towering and terrifying, emptying the jugular of a sneering opponent whos last words were 'goodbye, kid sister' and who died with a sigh._

_A woman, radiant and domineering, who fought with a whip that shone like the sun or with blows of her shield and swift, quick thrusts of her sword._

_Her own head spinning, hazy, aching._

_The giant behind her, skin grey-blue of a drowned corpse. Red, hollow eyes flashing with fire._

_'Kill them, my fury. Kill them, Kara.'_

_The click-click-click of her high-heeled boots on the staircase._

_The caress of the clinging, slick leather pants as she put more sway in her step._

_The swish and tinkling of the metal sash around her waist._

_A big, blue-eyed man-child staring up at her, resigned to his death._

_Her conditioning making her skin prickle and shiver with lust at the idea she would make a kill._

_The promise that she could go fuck a prisoner in the pens whenever she took a life._

_Desaad's smile in the corner._

_The scrape of her vicious, toothy, obsidian-black blade in its scabbard._

_The careless backhanded fling she made with the weapon, not even looking over her shoulder._

_Darkseid's pained shriek._

_A black blur resolving into a female shape with a chromed breastplate decorated with a shrieking skull. Lines of red fire pouring from her eyes, slicing the brains and wings and guts out of the insect-like soldiers fast as she could look at them._

_The click of a mechanism._

_The portal opening above her, yanking her off her feet like a hook in her guts._

_The blue-green, oh-so-kind waters of Themiscyira rushing up as she fell._

\-----

Kara wakes with a shout.

Sam is on her, holding her down, both hands clapped tight over her eyes.

Lena is sobbing, tears on Kara's skin and hands in her hair, gripping her cheek almost painfully.

"Don't scream like that," Lena pleads.

"Nightmare," Kara groans.

"Throne room?" Sam asks.

"Yeah."

"I mean, you did spear him in the eyes with a sword, " Sam reminds her. "That sword throw just have looked sexy as hell, babe. You didn't hurt Clark. And you certainly put the hurt on that sick fuck who hurt you."

"What do you think..."

Kara wants to hear them tell her she's wrong. That she _wouldn't have_ cracked if she didn't have someone to go back to. That she could've won on her own strength, not on her lust.

She's well aware the only thing saving her from being Darkseid's murder puppet at this very moment was the fact that ten minutes before she was grabbed, Lena had texted her a picture of a new flogger. She was demonstrating it with Sam's nipple. She couldn't turn into a monster. She had a hot date. She simply had to get back to Earth.

"...would I have turned?"

"No," they promise in unison.

Love is someone who knows when to lie and when to tell the truth and how to protect her either way.

* * *

**Lena Luthor**

Sadly, the after-trauma ritual for Kara isn't sex. It's Lena calling a therapist she pays enough to buy a private island or two.

The idea that Kara can't have sex is bugging Lena and Lena's not sure it's entirely selfish either.

Their rule about not fucking away real trauma seems to be making Kara and Sam just as miserable right now. Some whispering is happening between them. Horse trading, probably involving who gets her first and in which hole. They'll have their chance after what Kara nicknamed 'throuples threrapy' and she even wrote the Oxford English Dictionary to try and get the new spelling of therapy entered. The goofy grin, the face on the other pillow, and the fingers on her belly that Kara used to talk Lena into playing along with the name was...effective.

Dr. Pantima actually asked for permission to use that for the title of her book on poly couples, trauma, and emotional attachment.

The good doctor comes to them, as Kara prefers and Lena gives her a Lillian-level threatening stare while rereading the non-disclosure agreement, as Lena prefers.

The session is efficient. Kara explains there was something new in the dream, the doc asks her some questions about how she remembered each flash of imagery and in what order. They all wonder about why Sam's appearance in the dream both took so long and intruded in the memory. She wasn't there. If Lena could have sent Sam, she would have even if she hadn't known she was a Worldlkiller. 

The doc pokes into Kara remembering the sensation of her clothing, the sexual messaging of her gait, and so on. Kara isn't ready to face it yet, how her anger twined with her libido and she's wise enough to say it in so many words.

Handshakes all around. An off-handed comment about Dr. Pantima's husband being a child psychologist when she spots a fuming, twitchy Ruby.

Lena's not sure if the therapy is the point or the fact that it defines the next ninety minutes of their lives in a well-worn habit that's more important. 

Ruby trundles off to school.

Kara looks up and scents the air briefly.

" _Tahoq shil vas_ ," she grumbles. <literally "disease fucks lizard" | meaning "dragon-fucking pervert" | pidgin Daxamite-Kryptonian asteroid miner's dialect >

Lena looks up. Sam is still in conniptions because that was a language she pulled out of her subliminal programming and taught them both, swears and sexual puns first.

"Vastin, darling, really? My beloved has such a _filthy_ mind."

"Tell me you can't smell that, Lee. Please say you can't smell that."

Lena sets down her coffee and goes over to the can, scooping up a handful of beans and holding them under her nose to neutralize and reset.

"The scent is an alpha," Kara suggests. "Female one. Unfamiliar but not unwelcome. _Painfully_ strong."

"Ruby," Lena realizes. "Has to be. It's a female alpha but I don't mind it."

"Because she's dear to you," Kara reminds her. "Sam probably can't smell it because she's her mother."

"That's what that was?" Sam exclaims. "I thought maybe I smelled the marshmallows that Lena utterly failed to cook. Because getting them into a s'more counts as cooking."

Lena snaps her fingers and points at her laptop.

"Kara, get one of Ruby's teachers on the phone. _Now."_

Kara nods.

Somewhere at Fermi Academy for Young Minds, a classroom of thirteen-year-old boys and girls is about to be subjected to the over-the-top first rut pheromones of a _Worldkiller_ with the common sense of a pre-teen and no awareness how dangerous her mother's bloodline truly is. Sam is a weapon. Sam's body, down to the last detail of her hair and the pores of her skin, is meant to conquer and subjugate and bring Krypton to a position of absolute dominance of the galaxy. By any means possible. Including breeding them out.

Ruby can control her strength, it's old habit. Even in a rut, she won't _mean_ to hurt anyone. That's not Lena's biggest worry. Her biggest worry is that unless her human omega father's DNA actually took control -- and there's barely a hint of him in Ruby -- she's probably an early-puberty version of Sam. Their first night together, with the benefit of hindsight, makes Lena suspect that Worldkiller's equipment were optimized for _long-distance_ encounters and _bombardment_ of a fertile partner.

Kara looks up from her cell phone.

"Voicemail," she groans. "I can go get her."

"That won't be suspicious at all," Sam scoffs.

"You could go get her, Sammy."

"In that outfit, Lee, I'm officially a national security threat."

Lena puts her head in her hands.

"I have an omega friend I can ask to give the sympathy part of the talk. Kara, you're damage control. Sam, you keep the school from losing it. I'll..."

Lena sighs.

"I'll open Ruby's bedroom window and get ready to make an uncomfortable phone call."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the 2005 comic run of Supergirl, she is simultaneously at her most sexualized and in some ways, most real portrayal. I really f***ing hope she's canonically 18 with the way they drew her but the storyline involves her going to clubs, chasing men, enjoying sex and despite the exploitativeness of the outfits, we see her _wanting things for herself_ and that's been rare.
> 
> She also is kidnapped and taken to Apokolips to lead the Female Furies and Batman, Big Barda, Superman and Wonder Woman go save her. There's an [incredibly ridiculous outfit](https://static1.cbrimages.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/DC-10-Most-Powerful-Members-Of-Female-Furies-7-Cropped.jpg?q=50&fit=crop&w=740&h=370) that brainwashed Kara wears. She does have strong 'will break you in half' swagger and energy in it so that's neat. Arglye_S's amazing "Future Shock" series has Cat joking with Kara that she really wish she kept the suit.
> 
> In the comics, the smart men had to reset her. This Kara compartmentalized the torture to get back to her girls.
> 
> Someday someone needs to write a non-jailbait version of comics Kara. An adult, like on the show.


	7. Hell of a Day - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where what can go wrong will go wrong.

**Lena Luthor**

Lena has the interface for RESOLVE pulled up on the kitchen counter and in the other hand, the disc for the holographic interface for controlling HOPE.

"Told you she could do it with both hands," Sam jokes.

"HOPE," Lena sighs. "Please alert me to any approaching life signs. I need the count, gender, status."

"I am not equipped to detect primary phenotype by scent," HOPE reminds her. "The subliminal associations made in organic beings are not compatible with my algorithms."

"I am sorry, Miss Luthor."

Lena chokes back a sob hearing 'Miss Luthor' in that voice.

Maybe she shouldn't have agreed to it but she couldn't _resist_ using Tessmacher's voice and face for HOPE, not after Lex's toady and emotionally abused lover switched sides even if it was in the last ten seconds of her life. Lex's gun went up, Lena told Eve she forgave her. She has no idea if it was Lena treating them as only professional acquaintances, her asking what _Eve thought_ about the work _,_ and treating her education as real. Whatever reason, Eve got in the way of the shot and when it was over, Lena's Glock was spent, fifteen rounds in Lex's neck and chest, and even with the bulletproof vest, he was dying. Eve was dead behind her. A neat hole in her head and her blue eyes empty. Angelic-looking, Lena thought after.

Sam was through the window a thousandth of a second later, taking the arm with Lex's remote control watch off before he could drag his other hand to it and pulling his head off like popping a tab on a can of Coke.

She shakes off the thick, choking feelings in her throat. Her daughter needs her.

"RESOLVE?"

"Yes, Lena?"

RESOLVE is easier to deal with. A more private creation, exclusive to the family and two allies and meant for deadlier and more dangerous pursuits. Mercy Graves was a retired dealer of death when she recorded the samples and yet it so tickles Lena to hear the status updates in her old bodyguard's voice.

"Admit any Kryptonian signatures through the hard shield. I need a maximum does sedative. Broad-spectrum."

Sam's hands land on Lena's shoulders.

"She's a Worldkiller, babe. Won't work. I'm sorry."

Lena turns and kisses Sam's wrist.

"Never be. I want our babies strong. It'll make her dopey, at least."

"RESOLVE, belay that. Three doses, blue, gold, and green Kryptonite enriched needles. Hyposprays to safely knock out humans, aged 13-33 and assume a bodyweight range of 115% statistical average for females."

"Delivery in nineteen seconds."

"What's the plan?" Kara asks, her voice already that still, stony tone that means she'll act now and feel later.

Lena groans.

"If we can, we dose Ruby and let her sleep it off. I've ordered suppressants delivered. If not, dose her partners. Alphas lose interest in non-reactive sex partners."

Kara nods.

"We _really_ should have planned better. Gotten some of my alien-grade suppressants."

Sam sighs.

"I was too busy hoping and denying, babe."

"I get the age thing, Rubes isn't going to be big on rules if she's in rut. But why higher doses?" Kara asks.

"On average, queer women prefer a heavier body type, " Lena replies. "One hundred fifteen isn't too much extra."

"Ah," Kara replies. "That does explain a lot. Lena's so soft and fluffy, Sam. So if like mother, like daughter? Ruby likes them thick..."

"I will hurt you, Kara."

RESOLVE interface turns bright red.

"Alert. Siganture detected."

"Where?"

"Ruby's bedroom."

"Already?"

Lena hands the tray of injectors to Kara.

"I've known her since she was three and Sam's her mother. You're up."

* * *

**Kara Danvers**

This was _not_ what Kara expected, or feared, when she drew the short straw. Ruby has two of her classmates with her, Hunter and Kelsey. She seems to take after her greedy moms and their enjoyment of multiple partners, although her interest in males is different. Both smell like omegas and from their behavior, maybe more accustomed to the problem. Kelsey is pumping out faintly cinnamon cloud of calming and stroking Ruby's sweaty face. Hunter is rubbing her back.

There's nothing _remotely_ ambiguous about the way her hips jog against Kelsey's thigh. The only thing more classically alpha would be if they were naked and Ruby was slamming the girl from behind. The fact that she kept herself in and isn't doing something with a massive pregnancy risk is impressive.

She snarls when Kara opens the door.

"Shh," Kara coos. She sends a wave of pheromones to remind Ruby she's mom, not competition.

"Hurts," Ruby grunts.

"I know, Rubes. I know. This isn't safe. It's not right. You're all too young."

Ruby grunts but it's softer. Less aggressive. 

"Rubes, honey? I want to give you a sedative. You two get a milder one. You can all sleep downstairs and we'll make a pillow fort and we'll get you some suppressants for all of you. Kelsey's your friend, Ruby. Your _best friend_ and you don't want to get her pregnant."

Ruby isn't fully verbal -- it's a bad onset, poor dear -- but she nods and Kara hands Kelsey the injector with the blue Kryptonite needle. The closer Kara gets to the bed, the more likely the fragile truce snaps as Ruby sinks into the trance of a fully untreated teenage rut.

"Can you do it? At the neck. Just push the button."

Kelsey nods.

"Shh, Ruby. Shh...special needle, baby. For my special friend."

Kelsey and Hunter have devolved into one single cloud of spices and fruits in Kara's lungs and she does have some suspicions about how they're working so well together, keeping a Worldkiller bound and peaceable enough that not only are everyone's clothes on, a peck on the cheek makes Ruby go boneless.

Ruby offers her neck after a momentary puff of Kelsey's breath on the side of her throat, probably expecting a mating bite. Kelsey does the deed and Kara tosses her a package of bandaids.

"Attagirl."

\-----

Kara leads a wobbly Kelsey downstairs followed by a very sheepish Hunter with his bookbag over his lap to hide his instinctive reaction to being offered _that_ as an alpha. Lena quirks an eyebrow. Sam uses her X-Ray vision to check them all out, judging by the shiver she feels of the beams striking her skin.

"Ruby's sedated. You'd have been real proud of her, Sammy. She knew something was off. She was holding herself back _and_ holding herself in. She mostly wanted kisses and cuddles."

Sam exhales what must be her _entire_ lung capacity.

"Thank god."

"Kels, You all right?" Kara asks. "You keeping her calm was helpful."

She's not sure she one hundred percent wants the answer.

"Yeah," Kelsey sighs. "I...there was a lot of kissing."

"Adorable," Lena huffs.

"Did you...ah..." Sam mumbles.

"Are you asking me if I like Ruby?" Kelsey asks, folding her arms. "Outside of the fact she smells freaking amazing? The answer is yes. May 18th, 2028. I'm not sure if she has a crush on me but she's nice to me and most girls aren't nice to the fat kid. Not doing ...stuff...was harder for me, just now."

"What now?"

"The day we're all eighteen. Not sure Hunter cares but I do."

"You did that in your head?"

"Distracted me from screaming when I looked down."

"Ah," Kara replies. "So she..."

"Flew us? Yup. Kinda neat. We do owe the school two classroom windows though. She grabbed Hunter from English and me from band class."

Sam snorts.

"Hunter?"

"She has _no taste,_ " Kelsey agrees. 

"I'll call your mom," Sam sighs.

"Dad. He's an omega, he'll get it. Mom's a beta."

"Right."

"Hunter?" Lena asks.

"Foster home," Kelsey huffs. "Doubt they'll even notice he's gone."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lena says, turning and wrapping Hunter up in a hug. "I was in the foster system for a while too."

"You two good?" Kara asks her lovers.

"Thank you so much," Sam sniffs. "You saved Ruby. And Kelsey."

Kara grins.

"All in a day's work, ma'am."

_Now I just have to go talk to Alex. I wonder if someone could kill me, instead?_

"I'm going to go talk to someone about suppressants for Ruby."

Lena nods.

"Be safe, Kara. Don't take what she says too seriously."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What fresh plot is this? Are our favorite Danverses not getting along?


	8. Hell of a Day - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where what can go wrong will go wrong.

**Maggie Sawyer**

There's a knock at the door.

"Horse-fucking, turtle-ass chugging, jalepeno ji-"

"MMM!" Alex calls out.

Alex jerks in the knots, rolling her eyes.

_Brat._

There's another knock at the door. 

With an apology kiss to Alex's sweat-slicked shoulders, Maggie pulls out. Alex whines and jerks and whimpers and her cunt clenches _hard_ and if she wasn't so slick it would be painful. Alex's body has abso-fucking-lutely zero intention of letting Maggie's leave.

"Goddamn, babe..." she huffs. "You're so tight."

"Wait here," she pants.

Alex nods, vigorously.

More knocking.

"Someone is about to get some off-duty police brutality if they don't go away," Maggie snarls.

She snags Alex's black bathrobe off the door to the living room. It doesn't have the DEO logo but it's so severe and _not_ fluffy it might as well. Also it's sized for her taller, broader-boned girl so it crosses over in the middle plenty and might well prevent any displays when she answers the door. 

Planning. Alex has been good with helping her come up with life plans. The plan going to get this person to fuck off and climb back into bed with Alex before her cock softens.

She turns the locks and yanks.

"What the fuck do yo-"

"Danvers?" she mumbles.

"Hi," Kara replies, shifting foot to foot.

"Are you and Alex...uh...still?"

"Yeah," Maggie replies, feeling like a _real_ asshole now. She didn't have anything to do with Kara and Alex's blow up. No one's fully sure what did it. Kara coming out as an alpha after having hid it from her sister since they were in high school. Kara rescuing Alex from the plane crash and fucking off back to CatCo the instant she learned about the DEO? Lena Luthor? Lena seems like the likeliest reason. All happened in a month or so so there's no untying the knot.

Maggie would like to be glad of their fallout, since that's how a stumbling drunk, unarmed DEO agent wandered into an alien bar and needed to be taken in by the cop no one there would challenge. Except it's Kara Danvers, the woman made of sunshine and caramel and happy puppies, and _fucking hell_ if seeing Little Danvers look so down doesn't shatter Maggie into a thousand pieces.

Kara even called Alex when they 'weren't speaking' to get on hercase when she wanted to drop Maggie to fix Kara's life. Called in some ancient favor from their teen years to tell Alex try again with Maggie.

So yeah, she'll answer the fucking door for Little Danvers.

"Can I talk to her, please?"

Maggie nods.

_Fuck...me._

"I just..."

Kara flicks her eyes towards the bedroom and goes beet red.

"Yeah, I'll wait out here in the hall. You go untie her. Guessing you're still happy together, then?"

Putting a hand on the shoulder of this giant blonde slab of beef is barely possible on tiptoe.

"More than I've ever been."

Kara's eyes scan every _other_ room in the apartment.

"She loves amber. That's the color of Jeremiah's eyes. Hers too. The perfect ring."

Kara chuckles.

"But you should know that _she_ has a ring in her gun case, in an empty ammo box... And that's the happiest omega I've ever smelled. So. Congratulations in advance."

Maggie gulps.

"Ten minutes, okay?"

\-----

Alex dissolves into a sniffling puddle the moment Maggie gets the knots loose. She gathers her up in her lap and pulls her in, sending all the love she possibly can into the air as Alex sobs into her neck.

"I was gonna ask first," she finally croaks.

"Heard your sister, huh?"

"Yeah. So I could feel...feel like I had some...never mind."

"What, honey?"

Alex's eyes turn away.

It's jus-"

She takes Alex's chin in her fingers and tilts her so she can look into those whisky-colored eyes.

"Alexandra Elaine Danvers," Maggie snaps. "Never, for one instant of the rest of your life are you to feel like your omega status makes you less. How many of your soldiers try to pull alpha on you each day?"

"Six," Alex admits. "Six regulars. Not every day. Just when I give them orders they don't like."

Maggie's growl is involuntary and harsher than she meant and Alex settles into it. Digs for it, nuzzling and seeking until her ear is pressed to Maggie's chest. Rather un-feminist of her. Alex can take care of her self. Thought it's gay as fuck to want to tear the throat out of someone with her teeth for hurting _her woman_ so she supposes it could be worse.

"That's what I mean. They think that they can stink the place up and you'll do what they say."

Maggie sighs.

"Like how witnesses cringe when I get close because they're in heat and they think I'm going to take advantage."

"Alex, you are badass. You're more badass for doing what you do. Omegas aren't weak. Deck's stacked against you. Especially in a macho field. So when you got promoted? I was so proud. You are so much braver than I am when I make Emerson sit the fuck down and quit chasing rookies off the force with period jokes. I could overwhelm his whiff with some potpourri in his desk."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks," Alex sniffs. "I'm a fucking mess after sex."

"I mean, we didn't actually _get to._ "

"Maggie! That's my sister waiting in the hall. With superhearing!"

"So she is your sister?"

Alex shudders.

"Yeah. Of course."

Maggie runs her fingers through sticky-salty red hair.

"She looks fucked up, Alex. Like she misses you and needs you. She's given you space until now. There's a reason she's here. She needs her big sis. Why don't you at least try to make nice? It'd be really weird if I had to invite the bride's sister because her sister didn't want her there. More like she couldn't admit how much she wanted her there."

Alex huffs.

"Stupid sexy alphas..." she grumbles.

"Hey. Gaywakening you was the best thing that ever happened to me too. You want me to come with?"

Alex hums.

"Can you get like, another blanket, and have Kara come in here?"

"Sure, babe."

\-----

Kara is fidgeting, winding her sweater's already-ruined hem in her mighty fingers.

"I'm glad, Alex. Glad you and Maggie are working out. How is..."

"...work? I'm allowed to call it work, right?"

Alex nods.

Kara pulls a thumb drive from her blue jeans.

"Ruby made you some videos. She really misses you. Sam too. Until her mom told her about Lena and me, I think ruby thought you'd be her stepmom. She misses you _so bad,_ Alex. She needs your help. We need your help."

"How?"

"Ruby presented. Alpha."

Maggie whistles. Alex looks up.

"And you can't have a Kryptonian WMD running around trying to knot her classmates every three to eight," she mumbles. "Should've known she'd be like her mom."

The smallest of smiles flickers onto Alex's face and then burns out.

Kara sips her chai before she goes on.

"Right. The only facilities that can make suppressors for Kryptonians are yours, Alex. You have omega ones you developed for me before I told you I was an alpha. They're functional, or at least, they have a kick because they fucked me up hormonally whenever I took them. So between you, mom, and that Donovan guy, I'm pretty sure you can whip up some alpha ones. If you don't want to make multiple drops, just give us three months worth and Lena can replicate the formula."

Kara sighs.

"I know that my life now isn't what you wanted for me. I know you have mixed feelings about Lena's night job. I know you wanted me at the DEO."

"I can't, Alex. I can love my sister or I can look at a place she worked for _years_ catching aliens without telling me. I can't do both. To separate the sister I love from the cloak and dagger shit that makes me queasy, I need to have some distance. Can you _please_ help Ruby? She can't just rough it out like her moms. We make do. Not fun but usually we can wring it out of each other."

"Ruby's too young. She can't get her head around the idea that she can live without an omega on hand."

 _Rough it out?_ Maggie wonders. _Suprised Lena doesn't keep one handy. Any lesmega I ever met would love to be the secretary Little Luthor bends over the desk._ _I couldn't manage that._

Kara sniffles.

"I'm asking you as a mom _,_ Alex. I mean I want game nights and Noonan's back but I need this one last thing."

_One last thing. Fuck. Little Danvers is desperate._

"I can't," Alex croaks. "Lena's..."

Kara's eyes flick red with heat vision and back to blue. Maggie wonders for a moment if she imagined it.

"Think before you speak, Alex. Any quote sketchy as fuck unquote things she is mixed up in? I am. So if my Lena is some wicked monster, so is your sister."

Kara lifts her finger off the rim of her cup.

"Maggie, when was the last time the Science Division had to back up Narcotics or Trafficking?"

"Phew...two years? Vice still busts streetwalkers but they haven't opened up any nightmare boxes full of kids on the docks in _ages._ Last time I helped on a drug bust, it was thirty-five kilos of _weed_ which I didn't know was something that came in kilos."

"Right. Lena was handed a company and a crime family overnight when she was twenty-three, Alex. She drops the leash for either and it's bad fucking news. L-Corp goes back to LuthorCorp and tries to take out me and Kal and the CADMUS syndicate goes full mustache twirl. Unless someone comes up with a replacement for gambling, sex or drugs, Lena's changes are what's keeping National City from going full Gotham. Sam makes sure no one gets back into the forbidden shit and I pitch stories for CatCo to keep the pressure on the shitheads. She's been putting _personal funds_ in when the dealers want to go back to crack and heroin and sometimes, yeah, it takes breaking and resetting a nose or two."

"Reign," Maggie realizes. "That's why there are sightings but no kills."

Kara nods.

"I know you have to report all this, Maggie. If it makes your bosses feel better, Lena did tell me that L-Corp hasn't had its yearly wild goose chase for embezzlement," Kara jokes. "I really like that you're a good cop. I wouldn't want a corrupt cop near my sister," Kara jokes.

"So if I need to chill in an eight-by-ten to get Alex's attention, I'll do it."

Alex's tears have spread across the entire pillow she's clutching to her belly.

"I'll help, Kara."

"Thanks. Call me?"

Kara pushes a cheap-ass burner phone across the table.

"Sure."

"And if you want to be sisters again, I'd like that. Lena and I are trying for kids. Both of us. If you and I could be in a better place soon, it would mean so much."

Kara's lips curl at some secret silliness in her head.

"It'd be really great if you could give Lena shit about her baby bump. Give me crap when I can't keep potstickers down."

She pushes a pair of top-notch Samsungs across the table.

"Contacts preloaded in there for everybody in the family."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLANG:
> 
> "three to eight" = the typical range of rut cycles in alphas is three to eight weeks.  
> "lesmega" = lesbian omega


	9. Shock and Shriek - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where sometimes the best way to solve metahuman crime is to prevent it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This multi-part chapter will be told from the omega side of the fence and we're going to have some FUN with some of the Season 1 villians.

**Leslie**

The machines around her click and hiss and she smells something awful. Meat that was miscooked. Like some jackoff put beef jerky in macaroni and cheese and microwaved it for half an hour. There's flowers on the table and a pitcher of water and a card.

There's also a blonde built like construction equipment snoozing in the chair in the corner and two cups of Noonan's coffee, one with the cardboard tape still sealed.

_Fuck Thursdays._

"Who the fuck are you?"

The blonde cracks one eye.

"Saved your life. Brought you coffee. You're fucking welcome."

_Cat was pissed at me. Something about yesterday's show. Helicopter? Why am I remembering a helicopter?_

To be honest, Leslie wouldn't remember the prior day's show with a gun to her head. Ever. Her assistant takes notes for her.

She settles back down. Leslie feels different. She feels bigger than she ever has. Something's slithering inside her. Making her muscles tense and bunch. This must be what alphas feel like all the fucking time. Ready to break the world's kneecaps and ride its face until she has her fill.

The TV in the corner is flickering.

"Cheap Chinese crap," Leslie grumbles.

"It's a Sony," the blonde yawns. She glances over to the television and squints for some reason. "Though about half the capacitors on the power distributor are FoxConn. Shenzen, which is the mainland. So it's a mixture."

"Terrific. I got saved by some virginal IT geek."

Both the blonde's eyes open. She leans forward, filling her lungs in one slow draw. Humming as a smile spreads on her lips. Leslie's stomach does a flip. Then another. Then another. Then she craps up so much it's like her guts turned into fucking bowtie. Sweat that doesn't belong in an overly-cooled hospital room starts running down her back.

"You...smell...amazing. _Rao._ Are your heats always gonna smell this good?" she asks herself.

"Fuck. Do metas just stay in peak cycle all the time? Would explain some of the baddies..."

The blonde pulls out her phone and dials someone.

"Yeah. I need to speak to someone in Star Labs."

Hold music leaks across the room.

"Hi Bar-"

The blonde groans.

"Shit. Hi _Dracula._ I mean, _Batman._ Yes. I _know_ there's a new meta because I rescued her. Radio host. Electrocuted in a traffic copter. Her metagene is just perking up and holy shit. She smells great. This is going to be fun."

"Look, grumps. Gramps. Whichever. She hasn't hurt anybody. You come here to contain her and she's just going to rabbit. Let me deal with it."

_She sasses Batman._

Leslie is now five percent less pissed off at this woman. Maybe even ten.

"YOU DON'T GIVE ME ORDERS!" the blonde roars.

The cell phone is some prepaid trash. Even cheaper than the plastic fork in Leslie's food tray. The glass is bending and cracking.

"Well, Batsy, when you give me your apology, I'll think about accepting it."

She stabs the 'end call' button and her finger goes through the phone.

_I feel out of a helicopter and she saved my life. Of course she has powers._

With her heat ramping up, Leslie's nose is in overdrive. Chemicals. Antiseptics. Sickness. Death. Mysterious 'veggie' glop on the tray. Freshly baked cinnamon rolls. All she can smell is sticky, spicy, sweet cinnamon rolls and _fuck dieting_ she wants to taste whatever smells so good. She swallows a sloppy mouthful of drool.

She's smelling the blonde. The blonde alpha who saved her life and told Batman to fuck off. The alpha who is walking over to her bed, bunching her hair up into a loose ponytail and pulling a scrunchy off her wrist.

"Someone is in heat. Would someone like a hand with that?"

Leslie gulps.

"No hands? That's a shame. How about tongue?"

Leslie tries to croak out a yes. Her eyes drift down the blonde's neatly pressed chinos.

_Fuck._

"That," she groans.

What's the point of being a heartless bitch if she can't get fucked to death?

The blonde grins. 

"Let me go fetch a nurse to sign you out."


	10. Shock and Shriek - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where sometimes the best way to solve metahuman crime is to prevent it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This multi-part chapter will be told from the omega side of the fence and we're going to have some FUN with some of the Season 1 villians.

**Siobahn**

Working with Sam Arias -- an icon of hers -- has been a gift to Siobahn's career. Her instincts for the stock market kept LuthorCorp from cratering into bankruptcy. Lena Luthor took most of Sam's recommendations on what to buy out and what to shed to transform it into L-Corp. Lena...fucking...Luthor trusts Sam's instincts. Whereas Cat Grant simply dictated standards and punished people for not meeting them, Sam warns her underlings about them so there's time to meet them. Forgives stumbles long as a hand reaches out, grasping for help and a lesson in doing better.

If Sam's grin flickered into Siobahn's mind during her heats, that was Siobahn's fault. Professional awe. 

The professional part ended Tuesday. Some rumor about Lena being the head of the CADMUS crime family hit Bloomberg and L-Corp's stock went into freefall. The stock price was on uneven ground before the news broke, still damaged by the worst of Lex and Lillian's crimes. Sam was dishing out orders to traders, lawyers, PR flacks. Her own stockbroker got the business end of the only truly angry voice Sam used all day. He was to buy those L-Corp stocks now and they would go up. Sam's tone of voice belonged on a warship, projecting calm amongst the crew as fires burst from doorways and pipes gushed icy water. Letting the panicked crowd know that if they did what she said, _exactly like that_ , everything would be fine.

It was. By end of trading, L-Corp had rebounded enough that Sam knew the 'crisis' could be played off as momentary jitters in the market.

Sam turned away from the TV in the department war room with a brief growl and a stiff nod at the numbers. She told the stock market it had been a 'good girl'. As if the engine of the American corporate world was a heat-crazed omega laid out on the bed, gagged with her own panties waiting to see which hole Sam would fuck. Then she turned on her heel and marched past Siobahn with a huge smile and the tiniest, tiniest wisp of her scent peeking past her perfume and deodorant. The first time Siobahn was actually _sure_ Sam was an alpha was that tendril of pheromones at the end of an adrenaline crammed day.

She strutted past Siobahn smelling like smoke, seared meat, and hot metal. One whiff made Siobhan feel like she was sixteen, it was mid-July and her sweetheart was sharing greasy burgers with her on the hood of a car on a scorching day. 

That smile, that smell and that alpha swagger was the end of any _shred_ of hope Siobahn held of seeing Sam Arias as just her boss.

That is also how Siobahn learned that she can be heat triggered overnight and how she learned that the r/omegaproblems subreddit wasn't wrong. There's such a thing as a '32 pack of batteries' bad first day. The one true vibrator as far as Siobahn's concerned is the Dumbell. A fat, bulb-headed beast with control dials on both ends, oversized and rubberized enough that the shaking, slick, half-boneless fingers of a mid-heat omega can work them. Buzzing from cervix to clit with a max power level that shakes the teeth it takes four batteries to run it burns through them. Naturally, Siobahn was out of batteries when she threw her car keys towards the bowl (they landed in the sink) and dashed for her bedroom.

The guy at Walgreens _almost_ made a comment about Siobahn's basket stuffed with batteries, lotion, baby wipes, scent-eliminating bar soap and washcloths but then he made eye contact and whatever he saw in her gaze had him staggering back into the locked plastic of the cigarette case.

Siobahn has a problem. The heat never broke, not really. It still knocks her on her ass part of the afternoon _nine fucking days_ after Sam triggered it. She needs to get fucked and there's only one candidate.

Her boss. Her boss who would never in a million years fuck an employee.

Meaning Siobahn needs to get herself fired _before_ she bends over the desk.

Operation Get Fired commenced as soon as she entered the building. The policy says that first-time office supply thieves don't even get a write up if they repay 120% of the supplies stolen. Sexual harassment is zero tolerance of course -- Lena Luthor runs this place -- but that does fuck all for Siobahn right now. Emailing corporate secrets to a competitor would be a sure bet but that's also a felony.

Her keycard _does seem_ to open doors it shouldn't. Including Lena's private breakroom.

The L-Corp offices are modern, sleek, and corporate. The break room for the "Trinity" -- Chief Executive, Chief Operating, and Chief Finance officers -- belongs in some period piece. The _Great Gatsby_ and the robber baron mansions of the twenties. The couches are hand-carved mahogany and oak frames with velveteen cushions on them and there's an oil lamp sitting next to first editions of Coleridge.

Siobahn's eyes land on the Luthor family coat of arms on an actual shield that some distantly ancestral scot on Lionel's side had once used in battle. 

_No. Not Great Gatsby. Elizabeth the First._

She's not in the parlor of some robber baron. Siobahn has broken into the sanctum of a queen.

Three couches, one four-poster bed, six chairs, two cribs, of all things. One wall safe. One _open_ wall safe. 

Siobahn tiptoes over. 

"Why the fuck am I tiptoeing?" she asks herself. "There's no one here."

There are a few documents inside. Passports. Lena's. Sam's. Someone named Kara. Kara rings a bell in her head but she can't pin why. Maybe once the heat breaks. 

Diaries that are written in an alphabet that looks like someone just mushed triangles and straight lines together. 

Three stacks of cash. Fifty dollar notes, Euros, and British pounds. Each neatly rubber-banded and stacked to the top of the safe. Antique pocket watch with the Luthor crest. Monogrammed LKL but it wasn't made in Lena's lifetime. So not Lena Kieran Luthor. Lionel's middle name was Karl according to the plaque in the lobby. Probably a gift from Lionel to Lena. 

A handgun with sterling silver inlays on the grip which smells like it's been _fired_ recently. Maybe there's something to the rumors of Lena's dark side.

There's also a short stack of crisp white paper.

She pulls it loose, carefully, so as not to disturb the rest.

Her job application and a copy of the contract. Her headshot is paper-clipped to it and there's a single line highlighted.

> **_Any employee terminated for cause loses all privileges, protections, and access immediately. This document does not confer the right to access, property, or movement within L-Corp facilities. Employees will be escorted out of the building and personal possessions retained for inspection by Risk Reduction in the case of security related incidents._ **

Immediately is the operative word. Sam can fire her, sign and submit the papers, and ten seconds later be balls deep in Siobahn. As long as the firing happened first, nothing can happen to Sam.

Highlighting that wasn't an accident. Leaving the safe open wasn't either. For all she knows, her card was specifically reprogrammed to access this room.

Sam smelled her too.

\-----

Sam popped out for a meeting with Lena in the hallway and she didn't lock her computer.

Siobahn needed to use Sam's computer for her little betrayal but that means standing here in a column of Sam's scent. The chair is still warm under her palm and Siobahn's groping the cushion as eagerly as she hopes to grope Sam's ass.

_Focus..._

Siobahn draws in as much air as her sore lungs will hold, satisfying her omega's need for scent and also setting a self-destruct timer on her own sanity. The urge to scent has faded but that first-date picnic, fun in the sun scent will get deeper into her brain. The omega's eternal dilemma. Feeding the beast in the guts risks feeding the hope in the heart.

In the hallway just past the frosted glass, Sam is talking to Lena about something. Sam's hand rests on the sleeve of Lena's burgundy satin blouse and Lena's crimson lips are ticked upward in a smile. Lena's eyes turn towards Siobahn and her pale cheeks pink up. They've shared a few lunches, Sam and Lena. She can't see through frosted glass but memories of those eyes rise up. Keen as a knife of chipped jade and the dark, dangerous green of a jungle.

Lena's wearing a skirt, which is somewhat unusual. Something's pressing the skit outwards, just under the hem which is...

_Holy fuck._

They're laughing at each other's jokes and it's giving Lena a semi. Sam's passport was with Lena's in a safe. They're both alphas and they're an item. 

_Great. So I am surrounded by stealth alphas._

Siobahn's new plan is to find out how the rope in a tug of war feels.

"Come on, come on, come on..." Siobahn snarls at the computer. "Need to do crime," she whines.

The door lock clicks open. Sam folds her arms and nods at the computer.

"Need something?"

Siobahn freezes.

_Yes. I need you to fuck me._

"I, um, nope!"

Sam glances at the mouse and the USB drive that is in Siobahn's hand. The one that screams 'data thief' with the ruggedized casing and thumbprint scanner.

"I can expl-"

"Stay there."

"Yes, ma'am."

The smile she gets in reply ought to be illegal, it's so dimpled and perfect.

"Good girl."

Her spine melted, she's positive of it. All of the slick dripping down her thighs came from somewhere and standing upright is a lot harder than it was ten seconds ago. Sam rolls her shirtsleeves up to her elbows. Siobahn did not need to see those muscles...not while she was wearing clothes.

"Siobahn?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Open your other hand."

The plan was simple but at the end of the day, it was a plan created by a heat-blasted omega's brian for the express purpose of being caught at it. Somehow the idea of stuffing the flash drive into her cunt sounded like the most reasonable one and the hand Sam's asking about has her own damp panties and a ziploc bag crumped tight.

"Please," Siobahn whines.

"Other. Hand. Now."

She complies, wincing at the slow spread of juices along the glass as they leak from the panties.

Sam reaches for the thermostat by her door and punches in something. The glass goes black almost instantly.

The lock clicks shut and it hits Siobahn like a slap.

"That's sexual harassment, young lady."

Siobahn nods.

"I know."

"I'm going to assume a well-educated woman like yourself didn't take off her underwear in her bosses office _accidentally._ "

"No, ma'am. You...ah...I enjoyed working with you on Tuesday. During the stock price crisis. I found it..."

"Fuck a goat," Siobahn hisses. "This is hard. Fine. I've had a crush on you for months and then you just skullfucked the stock market until it did what you wanted and smiled at me. I went into heat on the drive home."

Sam's grin widens and there are definitely some places those teeth could leave marks...

"Blue folder on the upper left of my desktop. Termination form."

"Ma'am?"

"Print the form, pretty girl. Tray three has the letterhead."

The printer whirs briefly.

Sam walks over and slaps the printout on the table. She writes Siobhan's employee ID down by memory along with her full name including the crazy long, crazy Gaelic middle name. Sort of sweet that she remembered. Sam also jots down Siobahn's personal cell phone and address. That's more spooky than sweet.

Then she starts marking the boxes. 

> Insubordination.
> 
> Sexual advances in the workplace.
> 
> Unauthorized computer access.

Sam signs the statement with three quick swoops.

"Sign," she snarls.

Siobahn leans forward for the pen and Sam's hand lands on her ass. Hard. Without the skirt, that would have hurt. Big hands grab her hips, adjusting Siobahn's stance to the angle Sam wants. 

"Did I say you could _move?_ "

"No, ma'am."

Sam's hand drops into her hair and blunt nails drag over her scalp. With one long arm and a flick of a pencil, Sam sends the pen rolling along the desk into Siobahn's hands.

"Good girl. Do you want me to call a service?"

"What?"

"Your heat, Sibby. If this is all something that'll be gone tomorrow..."

_She remembers the nickname but thinks I don't want to fuck her?_

"It won't. Not...all of it. I think I've wanted you for a while. Not just during my heats."

Sam sighs.

"I'm already in love, Siobahn. With two women. They've got my promises. They've got forever and they're the mothers of my kid. What's your end game?"

"Whew..."

Sam bends down so that her breath moistens the shell of Siobahn's ear.

"Besides being my personal cock-warmer," she whispers. "You have to have a day job. Because I don't fuck losers."

Siobahn gulps.

"I...I'm an accountant."

Sam hums.

"True."

"Notary public."

"Also true."

"I could keep being your assistant just...not the same way. For your home life."

Sam clicks her tongue.

"Deal."

Sam slides her desk chair out of the way and reaches under the frame of her desk to remove some clasp. The drawers on either side roll loose like two miniature file cabinets which she wheels around and clicks together so they make a low table. Sam moves her purse to it and throws her jacket over it. With the other side of the desk being a solid plate of metal and the whole desk being just ridiculously big, this creates a cubby large enough for Siobahn to put a sleeping bag in.

Large enough for her to spend all day on her knees before zonking out and waking up for a just-got-to-work blowjob for Sam the next morning.

"Isn't modular furniture grand?" she jokes. "I can swing you a guest keycard. But you'll have to say _out of sight_ during sensitive meetings."

"Pick up my desk phone. Dial Lena. Speakerphone."

Siobahn does.

"Sammy," Lena purrs. "I just got the email. I owe you dinner, it seems. Such a naughty, naughty girl, Siobahn."

"Oh shit," Siobahn gulps. "I forgot."

"About my accent?" Lena jokes. 

Siobahn's headspace is more animal than human now. Words take thinking. Needy whining doesn't.

"She makes so much noise," Lena croons.

"She might need something in her mouth," Sam agrees. "Keep her quiet."

"Shall I call Kara? CatCo usually lets her out in the afternoons."

"Please," Sam groans, jogging her still-clothed body forward, slamming her khahi-wrapped bulge into Siobahn's dripping cunt.

_Kara. CatCo Kara?_

Apparently, the price she will pay for getting manhandled by her personal idols is getting knotted by her nemesis at the last job.


	11. Shock and Shriek - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where sometimes the best way to solve metahuman crime is to prevent it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This multi-part chapter will be told from the omega side of the fence and we're going to have some FUN with some of the Season 1 villains.
> 
> \-----
> 
> If you're wondering why this is so much meaner than the rest of the story, it's the narrator. Leslie has issues...

**Leslie**

The pipsqueak kid at the register whips out his barcode scanner like he thinks he's a cowboy and starts scanning. Box of alpha condoms, size she'd rather not think about too much. Dental dams. Exam gloves. Three bottles of lube. Various creams and lotions. Small glass bottle of some L-Corp thing. Looks like a genie's magic lamp and the top contains some sort of red dust inside the stopper.

Kara insisted on that and on the world's most embarrassing fucking vibrator ever, one for each of them. Leslie should've told her to stuff it up her own ass but...Kara has actually been a great heat buddy.

Leslie has not landed one insult, tease or put down on Kara. Not really. Everything makes her smile. Or laugh. Or tap her finger on Leslie's nose and call her 'grumpy kitty' or some cutesy shit. The time she came closest was about how shitty it would be to be Kara's kid. Wild guess. Swing and a miss, Leslie thought. Until one broad palm guided her to the floor and kept her there and the other hand guided Leslie's fingers to Kara's belt.

One grunted word. 'Apologize'. That was the moment of truth. Apologize in words and leave or apologize with her throat and don't push that button again.

On-radio Leslie would have dug in. On-her-knees Leslie wasn't so sure. The door to the janitor's closet was unlocked. Leslie had been signed out of the hospital. Kara counted out fifties until her co-pay was covered and then winked at the flirty beta nurse at the desk, nearly killing her. She _could_ leave and Kara wouldn't stop her but she was in heat too and Kara had been nothing but helpful.

Not like Leslie could even blame the heat for making her choice for her. Her ego did. Cat Grant's best friend isn't a goddamned quitter and doesn't back down and that goes double for sex. She is going to spear herself on that monster every way she can and next girl's night, she'll give everyone crap about their pencil-dicked boyfriends. Kara's cock was thick. Crazy thick and long enough that getting it to the hilt will be a cooperative venture, heat or no heat. One inch more would have been a dealbreaker, full stop. The broad, drooling head was so heavy it pointed downwards until Leslie started working her fingers along it. Their pheromones were swirling like a tornado, filling the closet Leslie's mouth was watering so hard that it was comfier having Kara's fat cock in it just to stir the drool. Kara also gives five-star spa backrubs and scalp massages while getting head. At least until the endgame where she's gasping and her fingers don't work.

The only problem was the condom and Kara's stupid 'no exceptions' attitude to them. Felt like someone inflated a goddamned birthday party balloon in there. If she could have swallowed like nature fucking intended, no big. Having a rubbery, sloshing lump dragged up her gullet didn't work and Leslie's coffee came up with the condom. Babbling apologies, Kara hoisted her up and wiped her off, ditching the ruined T-shirt from the gift shop in a biohazard can before giving Leslie her undershirt. This wifebeater smells fantastic and is stretchy enough that it really works for her tits. 

Kara kissed her forehead. Apologized. Said she was really sweet and until that instant, Leslie regretted nothing. Until Kara had to go and make her use her feelings.

Even worse, it was their last condom. No more fucking her feelings away and Kara seems like that one-in-a-million bitch who can blow Leslie up and make her really look at who she is and what she wants and make her want to be happy. Fuck that shit. She has to get out of feelings mode and back into hateful slut mode before it's too late.

So Kara walked her to Planned Parenthood like she was her fucking girlfriend, all protective and handsy and worse, Leslie went through the motions like a normal patient, not like the asshole she usually is. Usually, during a pelvic, Leslie dials the dirty jokes back just before the doc threatens to kick her out. Kara got tested too as soon as she was done _holding fucking hands_ while Leslie did hers.

Now it's a waiting game.

Now she's got to string herself along on the shitty sort of orgasms an omega gets in heat when she can smell the jizz but can't actually touch it. A quick fingering at the bus stop kept Leslie upright when the cramps hit, so Kara is able to make her come. She just can't come inside Leslie and if her fucked-up omega instincts don't get that hit, she will keep chasing the dragon until she passes out. She might go nuts if the rush results take six business days.

Now's she standing in a CVS with two baskets: one containing a pair of their most expensive vibrators and the other jammed with enough safe-sex, cleanup, and alpha and omega-scented products to give a whole convent of nuns a heart attack.

The clerk blows a stupidly large, acid-green bubble of gum before popping it. He's saying something but he's a thousand feet away down a well. Kara's scent and Kara being _nice to_ her like she's not the most famous asshole on radio -- Howard Stern can eat her cunt -- is really putting her off her game.

"Cash or card?" he asks.

"Card," Kara replies, handing over a black AmEx with a custom design engraved on it. It's the first time Leslie's had a chance to know Kara's last name.

_Kara Danvers. Fuck. Cat Grant's old assistant? Jesus. How is Cat ever in a bad mood with that dick on hand?_

Kara is Cat's sugar-alpha, clearly. Cat Grant makes enough for a rich-bitch credit card. Even after fucking her way to being a reporter, there's no way that card is backed up by Kara's salary.

Leslie finally has actual dirt on Cat Grant.

The clerk robo-mumbles something about coming again soon and Kara _holds the door_ because Kara is determined to ruin Leslie's entire life by showing her what it's not.

Kara takes the bags without even letting Leslie take one. Because she can't wear the vibrator on the bus, Kara reminds her. This riding the bus thing is confusing. There's no way a woman who spends that much on condoms and sex toys for their first time together without _blinking_ doesn't own a car.

The quick flex of her forearms under the rolled-up sleeve as she hosted the last bag did things and it would do things to her without the heat clogging her skull.

Leslie's not used to being with women but there's no better way to dip her toe in the waters of fucking other women than with one who wears men's clothes and who's so ripped she could break her most muscular ex-boyfriend in half. Female alphas are supposed to have all the flavors anyway. If Kara wants her carpet munched, she'll have to fuck Leslie until all she can do is lie there with her tongue out.

Kara leans close just before the bus pulls up.

"Do you know you think out loud when you're in heat?"

Leslie shakes her head.

"It does take _some_ focus to eat a gal out, you realize?"

Leslie nods.

"Want me to show you?"

"Yes, please."


	12. Shock and Shriek - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where sometimes the best way to solve metahuman crime is to prevent it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This multi-part chapter will be told from the omega side of the fence and we're going to have some FUN with some of the Season 1 villians.

**Siobahn**

The door to Sam's office opens a crack and a pair of green eyes peek around it. Siobahn fights past the bone-melting ache of her heat to wave at Lena.

"Coast clear?" Sam grunts.

An hour ago, Sam had starred in a whole library of sexual fantasies. An hour ago, Siobahn didn't know Sam was a tease. An hour ago, Siobahn hadn't been bent over Sam's desk, twitching, her blouse and bra shed, bare tits pressed onto the frosted glass while Sam typed up a contract and edited some spreadsheets. Every ten minutes or so, she'd let go of the mouse, slide a long and torturing finger inside Siobahn's hungry, grasping cunt, and tap-tap-tap on her G-spot ever so tenderly. The third time, Siobahn came so hard her vision whited out. She also screamed, apparently because now she has a paperweight clenched tight in her teeth and the belt Sam wore keeps her left arm lashed to the desk and she's staring at the sexiest smirk she's ever seen.

Lena Luthor's smirk game is god-tier. It's foreplay, watching her pupils swallow the green and watching her throat move as she breathes harder.

"You're mean, Samantha mine."

Sam's tawny hand comes down on Siobahn's ass.

"You know the rules, _wifey._ No soloing a new dungeon."

 _Bugger me sideways,_ Siobahn thinks. _They're nerds?_

A fresh splash of slick splashes from Siobahn's core.

Lena's long fingers tiptoe across Siobahn's cheek, tapping and marching up to her forehead, which she smooths with a brush of the thumb and a _good girl_ and whatever this edging plan of Sam's is, how bad could it be if _Lena Luthor_ is going to be part of it?

Siobahn lets the paperweight fall from her bite and clatter to the table before flicking her tongue over her lips to catch some of the drool.

"Can I see it?" she mumbles.

Maybe she can see if all the big dick energy comments on Lena's twitter are literal. Sam's sure are. A quick rocking of the hips let Siobahn guess the length of Sam's cock and it's as terrifying to imagine as it is fun to imagine.

"See what?" Lena purrs, as if she doesn't know. "Are you actually on board with this, Siobahn? Truly? Because our on-call escort services are second to none. So I'm told."

"Yes," Siobahn manages after several gulping, alpha-perfumed lungfuls of air. "So bad. I want it so bad."

Lena guides Siobahn's hand to the front of her skirt and curls it around her mound. She pins it there not letting Siobahn move, grind, or rock. The heat of Lena's flesh tingles on Siobahn's fingers, even through the wool. 

"There's no..."

Lena chuckles.

"No cock?"

Siobahn nods.

"I like to think of myself as lesbian first, alpha second. Important to stay on speaking terms with my cunt, too."

"Yes, it is."

"Tell me why, little one. Why do you want us? Pretty thing like you has options..."

"Because you're smart and powerful women and that turns me on."

The chime of a computer shutdown from behind her tells Siobahn that Sam's done with work for the day.

"She said she went into heat after the stock market thing. Something about my confidence?"

Siobahn whimpers.

Lena hums.

"You did come home and fuck me sore, darling. That was days ago. Sibby?"

Siobahn's heat is back in force now. Her primitive brain has decided that these alphas haven't knotted her yet, they aren't' enough, even though gold digger, starry-eyed queer, or crushing intern wouldn't kill their own mother to get their attention.

"Yeah."

Lena smiles.

"Do you want to start here, or at our place?"

"Here."

"She wet, Sammy?"

A finger slips through Siobahn's folds and gathers the slick, painting along her spine from neck to hips. Lena's breath hitches.

"Seems so."

**Author's Note:**

> ## Like it? Come holler at me about fanfic!
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